


Think once, feel twice

by Charlie_Mou



Series: One Piece Soulmates AUs [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Ace is stubborn af, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Feelings, Genderfluid Minor Character, M/M, Sabo & Luffy mentioned, Soulmates, a healthy relationship in progress, not heavy though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:03:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15716904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlie_Mou/pseuds/Charlie_Mou
Summary: >>>Soulmates AU where you share your emotions with your soulmate, they can feel what you feel and vice versa.Marco knew there was something wrong on the other side of the connection as soon as his soulmate was around three years old. That’s what all the breathing exercises, anger control, and reading guidebooks on how to calm your soulmate through the bond were for.Ace didn’t know you were supposed to feel just yourself for some time. He was born feeling another mind at the back of his head, born with the presence of another person. He thought it was normal until he met Sabo.Or in which Ace learned how to conceal his emotions very quickly but stillfeltthem as intensely inside his head. And Marco was quite confused.Orin which Ace and Marco's soulmate bond is special, just like the two of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably concentrate on one work but, well, I rarely do what I should.
> 
> It's another soulmate AU in my One Piece Soulmates AU trash series, check it to see what to expect next.
> 
> The AU is pretty clear, I think, but if you have any questions about it or see something that doesn't feel right, tell me right away and I'll correct.
> 
> It unbeta'd even by me, fresh after rewriting, so there will be a lot of mistakes probably, sorry.  
> I still don't know what I'm doing half the time.

 Marco hadn’t felt anything for more or less his first twenty years of life. More or less because estimating his age was a bit tricky – as an orphan, no one really knew how old he was and didn’t really keep track on his age. In the end, he could be three years younger or older and not be aware. His ageless face and knowledge too wide for his approximated age didn’t help.

 So yes, he hadn’t felt anything for about twenty years. It sometimes happened, he guessed. There were people who never felt anything because their soulmate was dead before they both could hit puberty and start to feel each other. There were people who started to feel being forty or sixty.

 It was maybe a year and a half after Gold Roger’s death when he started to feel someone else. It was not much – minor pains in his limbs, hunger, sleepiness, sadness and, sometimes, panic. It was clear, at least to Marco, what he felt belonged to a child, a baby born the day the feeling bond opened. Marco, after years of being completely alone in his mind, started to feel another person’s presence at the back of his head. He couldn’t explain it well but it was amazing. A bit weird but also comforting and lightening – not being alone ever again.

 His soulmate was born January 1st and it hurt as fuck, that’s what Marco knew. He hadn’t felt pain  _in years_.

 The emotions didn’t change that much the first couple of years. Baby giddiness, tiredness, grumpiness. Sometimes fear, deep and unjustified. It was the most wonderful experience he got, going through the changes of his soulmate, through the emotions and thoughts his soulmate was starting to have with months passing. How fast they were less and less incomprehensible and undecided. How more and more they were defined and clear-cut.

 Marco himself tried to be as calm as he could – it was like hitting puberty and leaving behind the rebel phase he never quite grow out of. He started to calm down more often, he didn’t get angry anymore, he stopped screaming altogether, having relaxed,  _I-couldn’t-care-less_ kind of demeanor all the time, answering with sarcasm and sass rather than with yells and protests. He started learning breathing techniques he used to call stupid. He started training his mind because it wasn’t good for the baby to feel all those things, especially since they were  _so scared_ most of the time. Marco hoped with his whole heart they weren’t abused or an orphan but their emotional distress only confirmed his suspicions.

 His siblings made fun of him all the time because of it. They said he was getting old (he was), becoming sentimental (maybe) and any moment he would be doing yoga (he wouldn’t). None of them had a soulmate with such a big age difference and none of them  _understood_. Usually, if the age difference was this huge, the bond would appear around teenage years of the younger part. It obviously wasn’t the case with Marco and his soulmate.

 But it also made him prepared and said a lot about the person. He knew his soulmate’s age. He knew their birthday. He knew how their childhood went (not smoothly). He knew they were a good person – they never got angry or furious or raging, just sad. Always sad. That way he knew they had a bad coping mechanism.

 Marco knew there was something wrong on the other side of the connection as soon as his soulmate was around three years old. That’s what all the breathing exercises, anger control, and reading guidebooks on how to calm your soulmate through the bond were for.

 Marco told Thatch about all of it, once. He laughed it off, blaming it on Marco becoming mother-hen for his much younger soulmate. Yes, he partially became mother-hen – he had to admit he was constantly worried about them. He expected a bit more understanding from Thatch since his soulmate, from what Marco gathered, wasn’t happy-go-lucky either.

 They finally believed him when his soulmates had his sixth birthday. It was January 2nd and everyone was still a bit hangover after the party they threw to celebrate New Year. They were sitting, eating breakfast like they normally would but this time Marco hadn’t said anything the whole morning – there was no scolding or scowling at them even. He sat in complete silence.

 The evening before, the waves of emotions started coming onto him. It was nothing like what he experienced before, not a feeling at the back of his mind, not one hidden by his thoughts and not a half-hearted one. The emotions were strong and pure, and  _so overwhelming_.

 It was something he couldn’t really describe – his soulmate was so confused, conflicted within themselves. There was a mix of feelings hazing Marco’s mind, not allowing his brain to rest even for a moment. None of the emotions were positive, sucking the energy out of him like a vacuum. There was deep and wide hesitance, a layer of fear and something undecided so much, something dark, barely visible in the chaos of thoughts. It reminded him of the time as an orphan, of the time of the loneliness he could still recall with details, that were like phantom pain.

 In the morning, everyone could see his bloodshot eyes, dark shadows under them and the way he blinked from time to time to drive away dream haze.

 Thatch and Atmos were sitting in front of him, talking quietly. It was obvious Marco went through a sleepless night but no one said anything – it was obvious it wasn’t a hangover, Marco, even if he actually could get a hangover, stopped drinking as soon as he felt his soulmate’s emotions for the first time.

 They couldn’t do much, they supposed. If Marco didn’t want to tell them, he would sooner or later talk with Pops.

 And then, Marco started crying in the middle of eating toasts.

 At first, he just couldn’t get the haze out of his eyes, his chest clenching and his pulse speeding up, thundering in his ears. There was panic, his own mixed with his soulmate’s, that wandered down his throat, making his mouth tremble. He looked at the room, frantic and desperate, choking on a sob that wasn’t his and seeing blurred faces of his brothers.

 Then his palms got all sweaty and before he could say anything, a huge hole in his chest became present, making its way to his limbs and paralyzing them. It was as if someone cut out his lungs – the air was all around him but it didn’t have a place to go in his body.

 Fat tears streamed down his cheeks, blurring the sight of his brothers. Someone, in the silence of the mess hall, screamed for a nurse.

 A held back whine escaped his mouth, sound so profound, so  _disastrous_  he couldn’t imagine himself doing it on his own account – it all belonged to his soulmate.

 To a six-year-old.

  “ _I should have never been born_ ,” echoed in Marco’s ears.

 That was the moment which made them all believed Marco’s soulmate needed all the help he could get.

 As soon as Marco realized those weren’t his emotions, he started calming himself down. He took deep breaths, one by one, trying to pull out of the panic and blinked so fast the tears left his eyes, giving him the clear view of the world around him

 Pops was standing above him, barely touching his back with the tips of his fingers and smoothing him with an easy, rhythmic motion. Thatch wasn’t all that far behind, sitting on his right all of sudden, leaning onto him.

 “ _I should have died_ ,” echoed in his mind again and Marco forced himself to think about everything positive in his life.

 He thought about the day he met Pops, about the day they recruited Thatch, about the day Whitey Bay finally agreed to be Pops’s daughter. He thought about all of the casual things that annoyed him in his family, about all the fun and happiness he had with them. He thought about the day he felt his soulmate for the first time.

 It either worked or his soulmate calmed down on his own. Marco tried to have only warm thoughts and not to worry too much. He didn’t want to stress his soulmate more than they already were, add his own concerns on their shoulders.

 He wiped down his teary cheeks and tried to smile as brightly as he could. His soulmate’s heart fluttered but it stopped aching so much, at least partially. Marco was proud of himself for staying composed.

 It wasn't that Marco was aggressive, he just wasn’t shy either. His temper had no patience, _he_ had no patience. He screamed, he puffed, he fumed  - he was strict and, in a way, too easily annoyed. Since his soulmate, his division, well, all of the divisions, were saying they were less afraid of him even if he was scarier,  _colder, more distanced_.

 Pops walked him back to the infirmaries and nurse Suzu, the executive nurse on duty, ordered him to sit down. Marco had never been in the infirmaries as a patient before.

 Suzu checked his blood pressure and temperature and asked a bunch of unreasonable questions, giving him hot tea. His heartbeat was sped up a bit but it was nothing to worry due to the shock he had just got through.

 Pops was still hovering over him and Marco couldn’t say a word.

 The voice was still echoing in his mind but this time it was only its memory.

 “ _I shouldn’t have been born_.”

 Marco’s eyes watered again but his mouth became dry. There was no way he could explain it to anyone, he didn’t really understand it completely himself – he had never felt something so strong, so real from his soulmate’s side. His soulmate was disturbingly too sad for a six-year-old, almost all the time, but it was somewhere at the back of his mind and his own subconscious was the main one present. He had never felt so affected.

 Suzu left to go for a nurse that specialized in the soulmate bonds, predicting she would be needed. Pops looked at him, holding back a cough.

 “You shouldn’t have left your whole medical equipment in the mess hall, Pops,” Marco said. It sounded as if his voice was somewhere beside him than coming from his throat. It was quite hoarse, too.

 “Son, don’t think you’ll distract me with this bullshit,” he answered even though he kind of felt worse without his morning meds. “Are you feeling alright?”

 Marco was still trembling and his eyes were stinging but he nodded, not wanting to open his mouth so soon.

 “What was that outburst about, then?” Pops asked again. Marco didn’t meet his gaze. “If something is going on, you can talk to me.”

 He knew that without telling him that. It was just hard to word.

 Marco didn’t look right sitting on the bed in the infirmaries as pale as death itself, uncertain. He trusted Pops with it but it was not easy to process.

 “It’s just- It wasn’t me, Pops. It wasn’t me that burst into tears.” Whitebeard raised an eyebrow at that. “It was my soulmate.”

 That made Pops hesitate. He opened his mouth but didn’t speak up for a stretching moment, furrowing his eyebrows, frowning.

 “Isn’t your soulmate about five years old right now? They shouldn’t be able to-“

 He cut himself short but Marco knew what he meant – he shouldn’t be able to make him feel such defined emotions at this age.

 “Six,” Marco corrected absently. “He had his birthday yesterday.”

 Pops hummed.

 “It’s- Well-“ Marco continued, tripping over his words. “I’ve never felt something so  _overpowering_ , so dreadful and sad. He-“

 “He?” Pops interrupted at one.

 “I heard a boy’s voice in my head, Pops,” he explained. “He was so  _miserable_.”

 Whitebeard licked his lips, fidgeting. His frown deepened.

 “Son,  _Marco_ ,” he began carefully. “You know hearing your soulmate’s voice shouldn’t be possible, right?”

 He knew. That’s why he was so scared, so worried despite all the exercises for calming down, despite counting from hundred to one, despite searching for things in the same color in the room, despite all of the happy memories that were flowing in his mind. He would have to find new anti-panic techniques.

 “I know,” he sputtered at last. “But, Pops, he said- he said he shouldn’t have been born. He said he should have died.”

 There was a long silence between them and Marco could only watch his father with uncertain eyes, an earn and honest expression on his features. Whitebeard put a hand around his shoulders in a reassuring gesture.

 “A six-year-old, huh?” he whispered.

 Both of their gazes wandered around the room, searching for something they weren’t able to find at that moment. There was, after all, a heavy bitterness in their mouths and an even heavier weight in their hearts.

 There was one thing Whitebeard didn’t tell Marco – he knew someone who could hear their soulmate’s voice. Exactly two people who were each other soulmates.

 Gol D. Roger and Portgas D. Rouge.

 In Marco’s ears, the boy’s childish voice was still ringing.

 “ _I should have never been born.”_

 Marco couldn’t agree  _less_.

 

* * *

 

 

  Ace didn’t know you were supposed to feel just yourself for some time. He was born feeling another mind at the back of his head, born with the presence of another person. He thought it was normal until he met Sabo.

 To be honest, Ace couldn’t imagine life only feeling his own emotions. Maybe because it would be a very sad life, maybe because he was used to something different.

  He was lucky like that, he supposed. He didn’t have a soulmate who was hurting all the time like Sabo’s and Luffy’s.

 Luffy started to feel his soulmate being around eight. His pain was mostly physical and even though he was used to pain in general, it hurt so much he would cry. Ace didn’t know that at first and called Luffy  _crybaby_ a lot _._ Luffy’s body felt all the pains of his soulmate and he would often touch some specific places on his back, legs or his neck and just scratch them. Mentally, Luffy’s soulmate was depressed, suicidal and there was something unnerving in them. Luffy didn’t mind, telling Ace all about how he would make them happy in the future.

 Sabo was more concerned, he supposed. His soulmate was hurting physically too but they were so scared most of the time, always making Sabo paranoid, struggling to let go and just have fun. They were holding back something, something Sabo himself couldn’t explain to Ace but it made Sabo’s muscle tense, self-aware. It was quite troubling but Sabo told him countless times he was alright with it and just hoped he could make them happy and completely free someday.

 Sabo’s soulmate started to feel less trapped when he was ten. There was still self-awareness and so much uncertainty in them but it was slowly fading out with time. Sabo said he would just have to ask them about it, about what was going on in their life.

  ~~Then, they were twelve and Sabo wasn't going to ask anyone because he was dead~~.

 

 Ace had never had anyone like a parent, not in the traditional sense. There was no one that would care for him. Dadan mostly made sure he was alive, Garp was like an absent, strict grandfather, Makino was more of an older sister or even a cousin, not present on daily basis. There was one person that cared though, and for the first couple of years of his life, he wasn’t even aware they existed because no one told him about this whole soulmate business.

 Dadan said he was a quiet and peaceful baby. With years passing, Ace realized it was all thanks to his soulmate and their stupid calmness, reasonableness and the way he simply sent Ace positive waves of emotions all the time. Since his toddler days, it didn’t work as well but it still made him feel a bit better. His soulmate, as Ace deducted, had to be at least ten years older than him to manipulate theirs and Ace’s emotions so smoothly that they were able to calm down a newborn baby, only emitting emotions through the bond. Their vague aura inside Ace was nice.

 It stopped working when he turned six or so. Ace always felt  _loved_  by his soulmate, he couldn’t deny it. There was no one, not at that time, who showed him love, not in a healthy way. Dadan, he realized later, loved him even though she was complaining about him, even though she said a couple of things which hurt him – that he could go die in the jungle, that he was a problem to her, that he was useless, that she didn’t want him. She wasn’t a mum, rather a weird auntie who didn’t know how to treat kids.

 Gramps was absent and when he  _wasn’t_ , he was cold, talking about survival, training and ignoring Ace’s wishes, being brass and stone-hearted. He was important to Ace but at the same time, he wasn’t really all that much in Ace’s life. Here and there.

 He was, in overall, raised by himself.

 But his soulmate cared, supported him, always was there for him without knowing Ace. Unconditionally. Ace loved it when still small and naïve.

 Ace was six when he started to doubt. A week or so, Gramps came visiting him for his sixth birthday. That’s when he told him.

 The thing is, Ace understood his life wasn't normal. Most kids had a parent or two, nice house in town and school friends. Ace didn’t have parents but Gramps told him his parents entrusted him with Ace’s life. They were dead but Ace didn’t know who they were.

 He knew his mum died giving birth to him. It was weird but he had this vague memory, this  _feeling_  of a woman holding him and smiling and crying, with a mix of sadness and pure joy in her heart. Her eyes closed and never opened up. Ace compared it with being _loved_.

 On his sixth birthday, Gramps told him everything. He told him about his mum. He told him about _his father_. He told him about his true name. He told him in what it resulted, having Gol D. Ace for a name.

 Gramps left and Ace, in his six years old glory, went to a bar not so far away from the Gray Terminal. He asked, for the first time.

 “What would happen if Gold Roger had a kid?”

 Ace kind of knew the answers already, he may have been six but he already had the mentality of at least an eleven-years-old – he had to grow up fast, not caring about the way his body didn’t much his brain. He started to hate his father as soon as he heard who he was and how he left his mum alone. He knew the answers, he just didn’t want to believe in them. Hearing the words was painful.

 “They should be killed before they were born.”

 “Demon blood should be cleaned from this world.”

 “The kid should kill themselves from shame.”

 “Why would they live anyway? No one would want them.”

 Leaving the bar, walking slowly to the Gray Terminal in the dark of sunrise, Ace held back tears, tightening his fist so much there was blood. In the Gray Terminal, no one would look at him and he could burst into tears.

 There was a hole in his heart he wasn’t able to close and dread and distress spreading through his limbs, paralyzing him, rushing his heartbeat, stopping his brain.

 His breath caught up in his throat and the junkyard became one big blur in the shades of gray and brown. Ace’s hands wandered to his chest as if to grasp his lungs and his finger clenched on his T-shirt, staying so close to his heart, feeling the most prominent evidence he was alive.

  ~~His soulmate lost their cool for the first time, panicking.~~

 He remembered his mum’s face, leaning above him, smiling through tears and calling him _Ace._ The memory was faded, foggy, Ace was so small he didn’t really know if it was an actual memory. He was a newborn in it, he could just make it up, _imagine._ But there was something in the way his mum’s voice was quiet, half-heard and in the way her eye color is blended with the background and Ace cannot see it clearly. That’s something that made him believe it was a misty memory.

 He always associated it with unconditional love. Now it just seemed wasted. Pointless.

 Ace was a demon child, he shouldn’t have been born. His blood was cursed. His mum gave her life for him for no reason – he _took_  her life, that was the truth.

_He should have never been born._

_He should have died._

 The air in his lungs escaped, leaving him with rapid breathing and stinging eyes and uncontrollable sobs. Deep down he knew it, he was aware he was unwanted whoever’s son he was.

 The memory of his mum smiling at him became bitter. There was no such thing as unconditional love for a cursed child. He should have died. He should have died before he managed to kill his mum.

 There was warmth in his chest all of sudden. A deep breath moved its way into his lungs and, although his eyes were still stinging and tears coming, he could see more and more. Someone took half of the weight his shoulders were staining under.

 It reminded Ace of the peace after the storm, how air was so fresh you could touch it, breathing and how there was always sun shining.

 His pulse was still rushing and there was a gulp in his throat but it was getting better. It felt like care.

 _I should have never been born_ , his brain whispered somewhere at the back of his mind.

  Just for a moment there, he heard a soft, affectionate voice in his mind, answering,  _I couldn’t agree less._

 Not much later, Sabo told him that everyone has a soulmate. Told him you feel your soulmate’s emotions and they feel yours. He told him soulmates could communicate with each other's emotions.

 Ace asked, “Can you talk with them in your thoughts, like, in the literal sense?”

 Sabo furrowed his eyebrows. “No, you can only  _feel_ them.”

 Ace knew he could more.

 

* * *

 

 

 There was no such accident for the next seven years or so. To be honest, Marco hadn’t felt so much sadness nowadays, not since his soulmate turned ten. His soulmate, whoever he was, was happier. There were still unmistakable waves of sorrow, pure depression, and self-hatred that not many adults would ever experience but it was noticeable mostly at night or late evening.

 It didn’t change that it was unnerving though. He got used to having relaxing evenings with coloring books, with light books with uncomplicated plot and with yoga. He didn’t know if it worked as well on his soulmate as it worked on him but he _hoped_.

 His soulmate was twelve years old when the second wave of something Marco had never felt, not even in his worst days as an orphan, came. This time, everyone knew it was Marco’s soulmate, not Marco himself.

 Since his soulmate was six years old, things changed. No one laughed at his breathing exercises, at his soulmate guidebooks or at him avoiding stressing situations. Thatch started making him specially balanced for his mental health diet. Izou (who joined after quite a messy first meeting with his idiot of a soulmate - Thatch) made him tons of coloring books, follow-the-lines or connect-the-dots books. Fossa made him a special bed, with a soft mattress that successfully fought with his insomnia. Vista made him all that laughable equipment for yoga Marco would never admit he had in his room.

 It happened at the end of breakfast again.

 Marco was just listening to Haruta and Thatch arguing at their table and it was quite peaceful. But in overall, he wasn’t all that surprised – his soulmate was feeling certain uneasiness the whole morning. It was something like intuition, sense of danger, Marco would call it. His soulmate had this worry, this sense of something being wrong at the back of his mind.

 Marco pushed back his plate when his pulse increased, racing out of nowhere and the panic was hazing his thinking more and more, his brothers and sisters fading into background noises.

  His table got quite as soon as Marco just stared in front of himself. No one really forgot what happened seven years before.

 It was stronger this time - Marco realized when  _pure pain_  pierced his heart, taking his breath away.

 “ _He’s dead_ ,” was what he heard in his ears, in the familiar boyish voice. “ _Fuck, he’s dead._ ”

 It was, once again, another tragedy in his soulmate’s life. Someone, someone his soulmate knew, someone important to him, was dead.

 Marco felt the panic vanishing but his heartbeat was still speeding, the hole in his chest only getting bigger and bigger, as if someone was keeping on stabbing him in the heart. His mind became foggy, not holding up so many thoughts at once.

 “ _It should have been me_ ,” echoed in Marco’s ears. “ _He shouldn’t have died. It should have been me._ ”

Tears prickled his eyes, his vision became blurry. His throat clenched when Marco held back his soulmate’s cry, not giving in to sob. He put a hand over his chest, trying to breathe, trying to think about every warm memory he had. The panic was dying out but its place was taken by sorrow and devastation, deep and unsettled, hovering over Marco’s tries.

 The tears never came, held back with the strength a twelve-year-old shouldn’t have. Because his soulmate was only twelve years old.

“ _It should have been me_ ,” the boy’s voice sounded in his ears. “ _I want to die. I have to die_.”

 Marco’s heart broke into two unfixable pieces.

 Single tear, small, almost unnoticeable, streamed down his cheek but Marco felt this weird mix of peace and bitterness – he could breathe a little easier, the air was lighter, but his chest was heavy with bitter-sweet memories that belonged to his soulmate.

  It wasn’t the end of hearing his voice.

 “ _I can’t die_ ,” was practically spat out. He kept on blubbering. “ _Luffy. I can’t leave Luffy. I love Luffy._ ”

 Something fluttered inside Marco. It was a relief, partially. His soulmate was, after all, alive thanks to  _Luffy_ , whoever they were. There was no other way it could be and deep down his brain knew it – his soulmate hadn’t met him yet and there was no possibility to comfort him, to be his pillar of strength.

 He couldn’t and Marco was grateful that  _Luffy_ was there for his soulmate.

 (He wasn’t grateful when, even after another five years, he heard loud and clear, very soft and affectionate  _I love you, Luffy_  in the voice of an almost grown-up man.

 There was a difference between kids crushes and love of a boy who was becoming an adult.

 His soulmate was, after all, seventeen and still loved Luffy.

 “ _I will always love you, Luffy.”_

 It made Maro sad and a bit scared – if his soulmate loved someone else, he couldn’t  _imagine_.)

 

* * *

 

 

 Ace knew something was wrong. It was his intuition calling, he supposed. Sabo had never wanted to go back to his parents but Ace trusted him to make the right decision – Sabo was the smartest of them, he would know what to do. He apparently wouldn’t.

 Dogma came and said what Ace dreaded for the last couple of days.

 He screamed and yelled and whined and claimed to take revenge and just blew up in general but his mind was going off on its own, not being angry at all.

 At first, it was:  “ _He’s dead. He’s fucking dead._ ”

 And, as his eyes watered, he could think only this: “ _I’m the worthless one_.  _It should have been me_.  _He shouldn’t have died. It should have been me.”_

There was a distant and deaf, “ _No, no, no_ ,” in his ears, said in stranger’s voice.

 Sabo was dead. Sabo, who was his first ray of sunshine, who was his first family.

 “I want to die. I have to die,” was what he couldn’t stop thinking.

 But there were Luffy’s sobs and cries coming through the house, like the crybaby he was. Ace wasn’t able not to smile fondly, even though his eyes were still wet and his mouth dry.

  Because Luffy was his second ray of sunshine, just as bright as the first one. He was the youngest brother, the one who was supposed to be loved and protected by his older brothers. There was no Sabo, so Ace had to take care of Luffy for the both of them.

 In the end, calming down and accepting Sabo was dead and he wasn’t, he thought: “ _I can’t die_. _Luffy. I can’t leave Luffy. I love Luffy._ ”

 “ _I’m here for you_ ,” echoed in Ace’s ears but he ignored it, concentrating on Luffy’s cries. “ _I don’t want you to die. I need you to live_.”

 There was warmth and firm support in his chest, hugging the bitterness Sabo’s death left with open arms. There was, also, a relief Ace wouldn’t admit he was grateful for.

 

* * *

 

 

 There was no way Marco could find him – the connection between them worked one way, like a dead call, he supposed. He had never heard reassuring words or anything from his soulmate, maybe because he had never had such strong non-positive feelings, maybe because they couldn’t hear him at all.

 There was only one time Marco needed reassurance and comfort. It was just after the death of the Second Division Commander. Delayla was a powerful but kind woman, one he considered a sister for a long time. She was also one of Pops’s first children and knew Marco since he was around eighteen himself. She was also the only female commander they had until Izou showed up. Not everyone agreed with that, women on the sea were seen as a bad luck, at least in the eyes of narrow-minded men.

 But she was a powerful haki user with close-combat fighting style and a hell of a navigator so she was the right person to become Second Division Commander. She was like an older sister to Marco and her death pained him deeply.

 She was killed on one of the missions Second Division was sent to – there was an archipelago of islands with fast, changeable weather. She was the right choice. A newbie from Second Division thought that his Commander was a weak woman and tried to protect her with his own body – she saved his life for the price of her own. They broke off the mission and brought her body back.

 Her face, usually darkish brow, was white as a sheet, with a smirk still on, so alive and so like her, eyes closed, with one eyebrow raised. She simply looked as if she had been frozen in the mid-move, her skin was cold, _dead_.

 When the Second Division brought her back, showing her unmoving body for the first time, he was sitting with Pops and just chatting. He stilled mid-word, practically feeling the silence on the Moby Dick and the warmth escaping his chest.

 Seeing her dead body was, at first, not possible.  _She can’t be dead,_ his mind supplied,  _she’s too strong, too powerful to get killed_. His throat thickened, nauseas overcame him, not leaving for a stretched out moment.

 There was a weight in his chest, so similar to the way seawater made him lose control over his own body, made him sick.

  _She can’t be dead_ , he told himself.

 He glanced at Pops and saw tears in his eyes. They didn’t say goodbye. They didn’t.

 He was in a strange bubble which muffled all the sounds around him. The only sound he could hear was her snarky laugh and the waves hitting boards of the ship. He choked on his own heart, not understanding  _how_.

_She’s dead. She’s fucking dead. She’s dead._

 To Marco, it was a small end of the world.

 Everyone cried that day. They let go of her body into the sea, burning on a raft, sending her to sail for the last time. It was a proper burial for a pirate.

 It didn’t change that she was dead.

 Standing on the deck, looking at the dying flames with sunset dying out just like the flames on the sea and with a hole in his heart expanding, he felt the most  _alone_  in his life.

 “ _You’re not fucking alone_ ,” screamed a voice in his mind.

 His soulmate was sixteen at the time and he was feeling Marco and talking to Marco. There was no calming, no reassuring or comforting words but he was there.

 “ _I feel everything, you fucking genius_ ,” the boy sneered. “ _Be an adult and deal with your life_.  _With your grief. I did with mine.”_

 He sounded angry but Marco couldn’t feel anger at all. There was sympathy, support, worry and even a bit of pity but not anger.

 It was, as weird as it seemed, heartening. There was no other person who could understand better what Marco felt. Not only did his soulmate literally feel all that Marco felt but he lost someone very important to him too. His soulmate, aged twelve, went through the same. Marco, after that day seven years ago when he almost started crying at breakfast, hadn’t felt even a bit of pure grief. Sometimes regret but always mixed with hope and radiant warmth. Sadness, determination, hesitance but never grief that made your body freeze, your brain not think properly, your heart ache. Never.

 Marco couldn’t promise he would stop grieving as fast but he could try.

 His soulmate never talked to him after that. Not until they met in person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, if you see any mistakes, typos or other annoying things, do tell me. English is only my second language and words tend to be messed up by me.
> 
> It's actually 4th part of the series but I have no idea if I can change the part number.
> 
> I have a longer MarcoAce series started (planned and half-written) that will involve predicting the future and visions, angsty as hell, that one. And there is this ASL AU in which Garp gave his grandsons not to Dadan but to Rayleigh. And the one which will involve time travel of (not so) minor characters. And the Portgas D. Ann one and trans!Ace one. And the one with unrequited love. All of them are outside Soulmates AU series.  
> I don't know how I'll write it with the school year starting but I _will_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm gonna disappoint a lot of people because it's probably not something some people had expected. It was supposed to be this way in my head but, you know, not what expected.
> 
> It also looked far shorter on paper. That's why it was supposed to be a two-parter. I don't really know if it won't be even longer because I was planning to end it with an open ending but I don't like open endings so, yeah.
> 
> _I haven't beta read that chapter, sorry._
> 
> I still don't know what I'm doing half the time.

 For about six days, Marco had been hurting. Well, not he but his soulmate. It wasn’t, thanks to all the gods, pain in the emotional sense – his soulmates had been hurting physically almost a week. It wasn’t as disturbing as it probably should, the kid was always hurting here or there – Marco assumed he was either clumsy or being abused. Of course, the first option was more appealing. Something in the way the emotional pain never came hand in hand with physical pain made Marco lean into the first option, too.

 Moby Dick was sailing as always for the last couple of days, not changing the course, answering the call from Fishman Island. There was some rookie challenging Whitebeard. Usually, it was no big deal but if it impacted their territory and people under their protection, they were obliged to see for themselves. Marco knew Jinbe was enough to defeat most of the rookies – the majority of them was stupidly naïve and over-confident.

 Ace was a surprise. A nice one.

 He actually won with Jinbe. He still didn’t stand a chance with Whitebeard but he tried anyway. Stubborn brat, that one.

He blacked out and Pops started laughing.

 “It’s your new brother, Portgas D. Ace,” he said and Marco felt a headache coming.

 His soulmate was hurting but it was faint. Marco couldn’t really do anything anyway. He could only hope it wasn’t too serious.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 When Ace woke up, it was dark. His body was aching all over and he was still sleepy even though he was pretty sure he had just slept more than twelve hours. He was also pretty sure it wasn’t the afterlife because he would (he hoped) meet Sabo and it wasn’t his ship because he didn’t have such a huge cabin there.

 The only thing he could do was think, “ _The fuck is going on?_ ”

 His heartbeat sped up and although he was confused, he was not that moved. It was definitely his soulmate.

 “ _Yes, it was me_ ,” Ace heard. It was his soulmate, a bit breathless but it was. “ _It’s me_.”

 Ace stilled.

 “ _What_.”

 “ _I’m as surprised as you are_ ,” the guy, his soulmate, said. “ _I got the feeling you don’t really like talking with me. Or to me_.”

 “ _I didn’t even know I could talk with you,_ ” he snapped.

 “ _Come on_ ,” his soulmate prodded. “ _We both know you’re not angry. You’re just confused, same as me. No need to take it out on me_.”

  Ace sat down on the floor, just because he could, and sighed.

 “ _You know it’s not normal, right_?” he sputtered. “ _We shouldn’t be able to talk in our thoughts_.”

 “ _Telepathically_ ,” his soulmate suggested. “ _Talk telepathically._ ”

 Ace furrowed his eyebrows.

 “ _I don’t care what we call it_ ,” he spat out. “ _It’s not normal. We shouldn’t be able to do that._ ”

 “ _I know we shouldn’t. It was weird when we could hear each other thoughts while experiencing strong emotions but now it’s a bit crazy_ ,” his soulmate said. “ _But is it bad though? No one has that kind of opportunity. We can tell ourselves each other’s names_.”

 “ _I don’t want to tell you my name_ ,” Ace said.

 His soulmate’s heart froze.

 “ _Why not? We’re soulmates_ ,” he insisted. “ _This way we could meet faster_.”

 “ _I don’t want you to chase me knowing only my name and I won’t be chasing you just because of some name_ ,” he explained. “ _I want to, like normal people, meet, fall in love and then wonder whether it’s my soulmate. I don’t want to be with someone just because the universe tells me to. That’s not how love works, it doesn’t come out of nowhere.”_

 There was a long silence and his heart fluttered, his face echoing a warm smile. He blushed.

 “ _It’s quite romantic_ ,” his soulmate teased. “ _I didn’t know you’re like that._ "

 The blush deepened.

 “ _Yeah, that’s the point. You don’t know me and I don’t know you_ ,” he insisted. “ _And, yes, I value you but that doesn’t have to mean anything_.”

 “ _And what if we get to know each other? Through thoughts_?” his soulmate asked. “ _Will you tell me your name then_?”

 He hesitated before saying, “ _Maybe._ ”

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 Figuring out how the bond worked now took them some time. They tried not to put their every thought into the bond connection and for the most part it was okay. Marco mostly heard cursing and names he wasn’t familiar with (like Dadan, Makino or Gramps) and ones he was familiar with (like _Luffy_ ). His soulmate probably heard a fair amount of cursing himself, since, as it turned out, Ace didn’t want to have brothers and still wanted to kill Pops. Marco was having a lot of his imagined headaches he couldn’t get because of his healing factor. Not that Ace was this annoying, it was kind of fun to watch him being thrown overboard.

 To be honest, Marco didn’t know what part of his thoughts his soulmate had heard. Marco, while hearing his soulmate, would tell him he was hearing him. His soulmate didn’t return the favor. He never really replied, especially when Marco was asking if he was alright while he was having one of his bad mood periods.

 Eventually, they did figure it out. Marco couldn’t really explain it but there was another part of mind space, like a second level of mind, that they shared. Thinking in the second level felt different than normal thinking and they, after getting used to, found it easy to stay in their own heads. It still sometimes got out but it was usually connected to strong emotions.

 Marco missed it though. Missed his soulmate voice.

 Maybe it was better. He had a new brother on board, one very stubborn and angry and insane and he should take care of him first. Ace was a piece of work.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 It was a someday in May, Ace was still trying to kill Pops even though Marco suspected he was slowly giving in. That day, Marco felt down. It was sadness, not his own, second-handed. Nothing too serious, too affecting either. Nothing his own.

 His soulmate was feeling down. It wouldn’t be so weird if not for that his soulmate had been actually quite happy for once. Marco didn’t know when it started – a month or maybe closer to two – but his soulmate wasn’t sad.

 It was a bit unnerving, so, sitting at breakfast, Marco stayed quiet. ~~Ace was being unusually quiet too, not trying anything the last two days, but no one said anything. Maybe they didn’t notice.~~ Finally, after breakfast, he excused himself and went back to his quarters, not paying attention to any of his responsibilities – it could wait, the world wasn’t gonna end if he was absent for an hour.

 In his room, it was empty and calm – he could stare into space and talk in his thoughts without limits, acting strange with no one to see it.

 “ _Hey_ ,” he tried, very softly and with caution. “ _Do you hear me_?”

 Marco, to be honest, was hesitant about the connection thing sometimes.

 His soulmate, though, had heard him clearly.

 “ _I do_ ,” he answered shortly, his voice weak.

 There was a minute of pause and Marco licked his lips.

 “ _Is everything alright?_ ” he began. It didn’t sound too meaningful so he added, “ _I feel- I mean I feel what you feel and it’s not pretty. Are you okay?_ ”

 There was a silence, combined with a strange echo of numbness and resignation. The heartache, spreading like a crack of glass, wasn’t giving in.

 “ _I’m okay_ ,” Marco heard, almost as if the boy was speaking right next to his ear. “ _They’re only memories. I sometimes keep forgetting that_.”

 “ _Is it-_ “ Marco started gently. He didn’t want to touch a sensitive subject but it felt like he should. “ _Is it that person? The one that died six years ago?_ ”

 It was just a thought but Marco remembered it happened vaguely around that time of the year. Usually, his soulmate was feeling even more down around that time too but Marco had never dared to talk to him about it – he didn’t know if he would hear him or if he even wanted to talk about it. The soulbond was still a mystery to him.

 “ _Yeah,_ ” his soulmate answered slowly. “ _It’s about him_.”

 Marco took a deep breath, a bit uneasy with the idea of breaking the line of his soulmate’s privacy.

 “ _Tell me about it?_ ” he said, his voice, his thoughts, imitating whispers.

 There was a long silence and Marco began to think that maybe he crossed a line he shouldn’t have, feeling the warmth in his chest, moving in the rhythm of his heartbeat.

 “ _It was my brother_ ,” his soulmate finally said. “ _They killed him. The Celestial Dragons_.”

 Marco knew, even without the echoing clutching of his heart, it wasn’t the most comfortable topic. He just thought it was an accident or some disease that was the cause of his soulmate’s brother’s death.

 He didn’t ask why they killed him – he knew they didn’t need reasons. He didn’t say he’s sorry – his soulmate probably heard that enough times. He didn’t ask if he was okay – he knew you’re never completely okay with the death of loved ones.

 He did ask, “ _What’s his name?_ ”

 His soulmate’s heart fluttered, bittersweet taste placing itself in Marco’s mouth.

 “ _Sabo_ ,” he said. “ _His name was Sabo._ ”

 “ _What is he like?_ ” he asked gently.

 A peaceful emptiness roamed through his ribcage and Marco was relieved the questions didn’t make him close off. It was the most intimate their talk had ever felt and he didn’t want to let go just now. Especially if he was actually helping.

 “ _He was the smart one, even though we were the same age_ ,” his soulmate began, his voice distant and fond. “ _He was stubborn and always all about being independent. I guess we both were._ ”

 “ _You don’t strike me as the type,_ ” Marco said easily. “ _Well, I’m sure you’re independent but I don’t know about stubborn_.”

 His soulmate gave him a quiet, troubled chuckle. It was so natural.

 “ _He used to say I’m the most stubborn person he knew_ ,” his soulmate supplied.

 “ _Must have been hard,_ ” Marco spat out. “ _Losing him so young_.”

 His soulmate silenced but it wasn’t a painful silence. He wasn’t so sad or so self-reproaching as just a couple of minutes before. It was a feeling Marco associated with being content.

 “ _It was_ ,” his soulmate admitted. “ _I miss every day. I know he would become someone great if only he was still alive_.”

 “ _I’ll punch some Celestial Dragons for you next time I see any_ ,” Marco added. “ _Won’t change too much but it may make you feel better._ ”

 His soulmate chuckled again. It wasn’t exactly carefree but it was freeing. He probably thought Marco was joking. He wasn’t.

 “ _Thanks_ ,” he began, “ _but I’d prefer to punch them myself_.”

  It was Marco’s time to laugh because his soulmate was barely an adult, what could he do? It must have been a joke.

 “ _As you wish,_ ” he replied smoothly.

~~None of them was joking. One of them knew that. The other didn’t.~~

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 “ _Are you crying_?” Marco asked suddenly, not voicing it out loud.

 There was distress in his mind, not belonging to him. There was this specific feeling in his chest, the one when you're choking on air, and he couldn’t say it was familiar – his soulmate, for the amount of sadness he had in himself, rarely cried. But Marco’s muscles got weak, trembling a bit and his eyes were prickling, stinging with tears that probably streamed down his soulmate’s cheeks.

 Marco’s hand absently wandered to his collarbone, keeping track on his heartbeat. It was racing. He put the pen down, moving the report for the next day.

 “ _No,_ ” he heard in his mind. It _definitely_ sounded as if his soulmate was crying.

 Something swelled in Marco at that.

 “ _Tell me about it_?” he drawled, making his voice soft, resembling a whisper.

 There was the feeling that Marco always compared to two people pulling one rope in the opposite directions. Hesitance. There was the shame and even more sadness, clutching his chest in a tight grip, fisting its hand on him. There was, also, surprising warmth and relief, slowing his pulse, mixing with twitching double-mindedness.

 Marco’s throat tightened, mimicking his soulmate.

 “ _Hey, Soulmate Guy_ ,” he said but it didn’t sound casual, just nervous. “ _What would you do if Gold Roger had a son_?”

 Marco blinked, partially in surprise. Partially to drive away the tears that weren’t his.

 He tried to calm himself down, his eyes wandered around the room, looking at photos and papers and books.

 “ _I think I don’t understand the question or something_ ,” he answered honestly, feeling his soulmate’s impatience. “ _If he had a son, then, well, it doesn’t really concern me_.”

 “ _But_ ,” his soulmate continued with a shaky voice that reminded Marco of being scared. “ _What would happen if you met him_?”

 Marco ignored the feeling of something being wrong that whelmed up in his mind and looked at the hand that was resting on the countertop.

 “ _Nothing, I guess_ ,” he answered, still confused. “ _If he was a cool guy, of course, if he was a bad guy, I’d kick his ass._ ”

 “ _Just like that_?” his soulmate questioned. It was loud but not angry, rather frustrated and there was a hitch at the end of the sentence that showed how uncertain it was. “ _Cool guy, bad guy. Not a demon child_?”

 Marco raised an eyebrow at that, wrinkling his nose.

 “ _Overlooking that Gold Roger wasn’t a demon, I knew him personally_ ,” he spat out. He regretted it as fast – his soulmate was after all still a kid, probably a normal one with normal life, opinionated about the pirates because of the society. And Marco just admitted not only that he was some big name pirate but also to being much older. “ _Children don’t choose their parents, well, I did choose mine, but I’ve been talking about biological ones._ ”

 Marco's vision became foggy, he could see only the shapes of the room, feeling tears in his eyes and small teardrops streaming down his cheeks. It mirrored what exactly his soulmate felt right now. There was no sorrow or self-hatred, only bittersweet emotion that made his mouth twist in a half-grimace.

“ _Where did the question come from?_ ” Marco asked gently, practically whispering in his own mind.

 “ _I've just told someone important- someone who can be important to me in the future. I told him the truth_ ,” he said. “ _I told him that I'm Gold Roger's son._ ”

 He blinked. Marco deep down suspected it, just after hearing the question for the first time. He tried to cover the shock with worry and fondness. He almost chuckled. Out of all the people in the world, his soulmate had to be the son of his crew's biggest rival.

 “ _He is the only person who accepted that outside of my family_ ,” his soulmate added quietly.

 “ _Make it two, then_ ,” he said instantly. “ _Your soulmate accepts it too._ ”

 The tears came again, welling in his eyes but there was warmth in his chest, the freedom he hardly ever felt from his soulmate.

 “ _There is no reason to cry, you know_ ,” Marco whispered again. “ _People can be cruel but I'm not_.”

 “ _I know_ ,” he replied. “ _I knew as soon as I was six and you were the only thing holding me up_.”

 There was silence, the connection going deaf again, probably so Marco couldn’t hear his sobs. It was not an awkward, thick silence but the one that showed itself when you embrace someone very important, like the silence after a kiss or the silence when you’re falling asleep.

 “ _My name is Marco, by the way_ ,” he added. “ _Just wanted you to know_.”

 His soulmate kept on crying and whining but his heart was sparking.

 The next day, Ace officially joined the crew. He was staying close to Pops but Marco could see the way he sometimes smiled at him, with happiness in the eyes and something that Marco could almost call shyness.

  ~~He didn’t connect the dots~~.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 “ _You said Gold Roger is your father,_ ” Marco spoke up one day.

 “ _Well, biologically speaking_ ,” his soulmate answered at once.

 He usually did. Maybe because Marco always asked only in the evenings, maybe because he had a dividated attention and could concentrate on Marco’s words without spacing out. Marco himself couldn’t.

 “ _So, what about your mother_?” Marco asked out of pure curiosity. “ _What’s she like? You know, a woman so special the Pirate King himself noticed her_?”

 Haruta had just got out of his monthly call to his mother and it made Marco think.

 “ _What_ was _she like, I’d ask,”_ his soulmate corrected. Marco froze. “ _She died giving birth to me. I didn’t really know her, I just know she loved me_.”

 “ _I’m sorry, I didn’t-“_

 “ _It’s okay,”_ his soulmate said. It wasn’t even a lie from what Marco could feel. “ _Gramps doesn’t like to talk about her and he’s the only one who knew her. She was a pirate of some kind and he hates pirates.”_

 “ _Crap_ ,” he spat out. “ _Do you? Do you hate pirates? Because I’m kind of a one.”_

 His soulmate chuckled, it was a sweet, sweet sound, so familiar but also so _new_.

 “ _Yeah, I figured that out_ ,” his soulmate said. “ _In our family, you’re either affiliated to pirates or to marines. Gramps is a marine.”_

Marco licked his lips, he was smiling but there was a trace of a grimace in it.

 “ _Is it someone high up? Maybe I know him?”_

 There was an echo of warmth on his cheeks and Marco heard a nervous giggle in his ears.

 “ _No, not at all. Definitely not someone you recognize_ ,” his soulmate sputtered, his tone of voice funny.

 Marco grinned at that.

 “ _You’re lying, aren’t you? He is someone from the higher-ups_.”

~~If Marco made a mental map of famous marines that were over sixty, it was his choice. If Marco decided Garp the Fist wasn’t the one because he couldn’t kill his own grandson’s father, it was his choice.~~

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 “ _I’m sorry about how I acted when she died_ ,” Marco heard in his mind one day. “ _It was insensitive.”_

 For a moment there, Marco didn’t know what he meant, it was so long ago. Then he realized.

 “ _It’s okay. I needed a little kick in the head anyway_ ,” he said. “ _What made you apologize now? It happened a couple of years ago_.”

 It was a normal day, an easy one. Marco was kind of tired the last few days and the day before everyone returned their mission reports, and income reports, and their list of requests. He had a ton of paperwork to check and it suited him for once – it was quiet in his room and no one bothered him.

 “ _It’s the anniversary of her death, isn’t it_?” his soulmate replied, his voice was the softest Marco had heard it.

 It actually was, he realized. That’s why the Second Division was so pissed off at everything and that’s why everyone handed in all the paperwork – to distract him.

 “ _I forgot_ ,” he admitted.

 “ _Yeah, I kinda felt that through the bond_ ,” his soulmate answered. “ _It’s okay. Most of my family doesn’t remember Sabo’s death anniversaries too. Sorry for reminding you.”_

 “ _I should have remembered_ ,” he said weakly. “ _She was family. She was like an older sister_.”

 “ _What was she like?_ ” he whispered. “ _Your sister, what was she like_?”

 Marco cleared his throat, a bitter taste in his mouth. There was warmth around his chest, one he would compare to an embrace.

 “ _She was too smart for her own good. Too caring and selfless too_ ,” he said. “ _She saved mine and our father’s life when we met her. We’re all, my siblings and I, kind of adopted_.”

 “ _I figured that part_ ,” his soulmate chuckled. “ _What was her name_?”

 “ _Delayla_ ,” he replied. “ _I’ve known her for almost twenty years before she-_ “

 “ _Don’t go there_ ,” his soulmate interrupted. “ _I asked what was she like and that’s not part of what was she like. Tell me something else. Something happy_.”

 Marco smiled.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 Marco knew, as soon as he lied his eyes on Ace the first time he had tried to kill Pops, that Ace was going to become the Second Division Commander. There was no other way.

 Most of the older crew probably knew it too. He was too much like Delayla, too much like the last Second Division Commander. There was a hole left in their family after Delayla’s death, such a big one that there was no person who could cover it for the next two years – no one even considered proposing someone for the position of Second Divison Commander.

 But Ace was different. He was not only powerful but loyal and caring. He seemed as carefree as Delayla was, at the same time having the aura of responsibility and firmness not many adults had, having the aura of holding all of the burdens of the world on his shoulders.

 The first time he saw him, standing tall and prideful between Marco’s father and a wall entirely made of fire, he was mesmerized. He wasn’t surprised when Pops proposed Ace place in the crew.

 With time, with Ace showing more and more how capable he was, people started to whisper. Most of the Second Division was opposing, mostly still clearly living in the memory of their last Commander. Pops hadn’t proposed Ace the position yet but people already started to talk. Talk that he was too young, that he was inexperienced, that his place wasn’t in the division almost entirely made of navigators, he was an ex-captain and a fighter. Everyone agreed he could be a commander but not the commander of the navigators’ division.

 Marco knew better. Ace, for all he knew, started sailing alone. Which meant he had at least basics of navigation and meteorology. To be honest, Ace had something many of the other navigators didn’t have – instinct and sense. He didn’t learn from books, didn’t know half of the proper terms but he was able to recognize weather far better than others, with the time gap needed to change the course before the danger. Ace himself probably wouldn’t say he had a talent but he did. He was adaptable and wasn’t scared of things he didn’t know – be it another kind of clouds, eddies or tides that came out of nowhere.

 Ace didn’t really talk about any of this with the navigators since they screamed at him not to do their job for them. But he talked with Marco.

 The first time it had happened, Ace hadn’t even been in the crew yet. They were sailing relatively calmly, the wind was a bit stronger than they would like, nearing gale, but Moby Dick was a seaworthy ship which could take worse. The sky was almost clear which meant the front would change – the wind didn’t come out of nowhere. Ace walked up to him, faking nonchalance.

 “Alter the course,” he demanded.

 Marco wasn’t all that sure about that. “Why would we?”

 Ace snorted. “If you want to get dismasted, sure, don’t alter the course.”

 “I know the wind is strong but it’s not that strong,” Marco started.

  Ace sighed. “Do you see that cloud?” He pointed at dense cumulonimbus cloud with smaller shelf and roll clouds around it. It wasn’t too treating, there would be outflow but nothing serious. “The wind under it is much stronger, almost like in the thunderstorm. The masts will break, not to mention that the wind coming from that cloud is a headwind, the ship will lose speed and you will be drifted away.”

 The cloud didn’t look too dangerous but Marco made a mental note to check with the Second Division. He was kind of curious, though.

 “What do you suggest, then?” he asked.

 Ace fidgeted.

 “You are the most close-hauled you can get, so put up the helm,” Ace said. “You will luff up later, the wind will still be strong enough to do it dynamically.”

 Ace was, of course, right.

 

 There was always a bit of hesitance in Ace when he suggested something about the weather and navigation.

 It was rather a calm day. The sky was pretty blue with perfectly white, curly clouds. They were getting close to a couple of summer islands – a day of sailing maybe and they would be there to restock. Marco was just checking on the watch that was supposed to be changed after lunch. He barely came out of the forecastle when Ace approached him, fidgeting.

 Normally, Marco would like to sigh but the day was too much at peace – sailing was smooth, there were no arguments between crewmembers and his soulmate was, admittedly, not stoic calm but also not sad.

 “Uhm, Marco…” Ace began. “You do know about that huge wave that’s coming from behind the stern, right?”

 Marco did not know about the huge wave that was coming from behind the stern.

 His eyes widened and he licked his lips. Ace looked kind of nervous so Marco tried not to look too pissed off. He glanced at the stern and didn’t really see anything, except for the sun that was setting down on the water more and more with every minute.

  “Where exactly?” he asked. “I can’t see anything.”

 Ace looked to the side and Marco felt bad. He knew Ace was probably right – he trusted him not to lie about this kind of things.

 “I’m not angry at you,” he added quickly. “I just can’t see it. Come with me to the chart room.”

 Ace absently went after him. Marco checked the west and yes, there was a wave coming their way. It didn’t look too big but Marco wasn’t an expert on the matter.

 Ace waited at the back, trying to make himself invisible to the glare of other navigators present in the chart room. Marco asked Irashi, the boss of the current shift, what he thought about the tide.

 Irashi looked at it and almost dropped the spyglass. It was enough of an answer. Marco sent a reassuring smile to Ace and asked Irashi, again, what he thought.

 “We are around shallow waters and the wind is head to the wave so it’s probably a seismic one,” he said. “We can’t avoid it, Moby Dick has heavy displacement so no drowning ship but the wave may actually reach the second yard in height so the shipwrights should prepare for damaged starboard and masts.”

 Marco hummed and turned to Ace, “What would you do, Ace?”

 There was a moment of silence and he hesitated for a couple of seconds, glancing at Irashi.

 “I’d alter the course, put the helm up and gybe.” The navigators in the room snorted but Marco nodded to Ace to continue. “We can gather speed with the wind on the quarter and reef down before hitting the wave head-on. We wouldn’t lose maneuverability but the hit surface would be mostly bow since it’s a bit higher above the water line than the rest of the ship.”

 “And what about the bow, genius?” some guy in the background sneered. “It would take the whole impact. It would break.”

 Marco raised an eyebrow at Ace. He looked at the floor.

 “Well, the impact would be smaller than on starboard. A smaller part of the wave hitting bigger space. We can use fenders to secure the most sensitive parts. The foremast sails would be handed and the mainmast sails would be handed at the top and reefed down at the bottom but mizzenmast and jiggermast sails would stay subtly reefed. The gaff sail would help with steering, which would be needed for the smaller waves that would come after that one. We could slow down by running by the lee later.”

 The whole room went quiet, giving Ace the stinky eye, Irashi bit his lip and Marco had to smirk, very proud.

 “How long do we have?” he asked.

 “Fifteen minutes, maybe,” Irashi said, glancing at the window.

 “It’s closer to ten, actually,” Ace corrected.

 Ten minutes was enough in their crew. The navigators raised the alarm and Marco sent Ace for Namur’s and Blamenco’s divisions. They were already changing the course and reefing down but they needed the crew to stay on deck and handle the rest of the sails. Safety lines were on the deck in under five minutes.

 Ace was right. Again.

 Next, there was an incident with eddies and the incident with shoal and the incident with a sunken rock. There was also that thing that Ace’s powers naturally reacted to rain. Ace was always right.

 So, yes, Marco wasn’t surprised when Pops asked him to come to his room after dinner and said, “I’d like to make Ace a commander.”

 Marco smiled at that because, to be honest, it was a matter of time.

 “Then make him a commander, I guess.”

 “You’re in favor of it, I see. Despite what everyone’s been saying,” he concluded.

 “Pops,” he began gently, “there’s no person better to become the Second Divison Commander than Ace.”

 “What about the Second Divison’s opinion? About his lack of experience?” he questioned.

 Marco raised an eyebrow at that.

 “He’s a good navigator, a natural if you ask me. Yes, he lacks proper vocabulary and terms but it can be learned,” he said simply. “Which you know because you wouldn’t even consider him otherwise.”

 Pops smiled, not looking guilty at all.

 “Well,” he spoke up, his voice fond but absent. “Go tell him the good news, then. You seem to be his favorite.”

 

 What Marco hadn’t expected was Ace saying _no_.

 “Wait,” he spat out. “Why exactly _no_? How can you say _no_?”

 “I don’t want to be a commander,” he answered simply. “And anyway, I’m not fit to be a commander, Marco.”

 Marco made a face at that, folding his arms over his chest.

 “The Second Division hates me for one,” he supplied.

 “Let’s not go overboard, they just aren’t used to the idea of having a commander after what happened with the last one,” he answered, his throat dry at the thought.

 “I know that they still remember Delayla,” Ace started. “But I’m not gonna be her and I don’t want to replace her.”

 Marco stilled for a moment, forgetting how to breathe. He hadn’t heard that name for two years – the crew usually stayed shut around him, not even mentioning her. It was kind of obvious that Ace would hear about her, especially with the rumors of his promotion spreading.

 “You’re not replacing anyone. You are your own person,” Marco insisted. “Who is going to be the current Second Division Commander.”

 Ace sighed, closing his eyes and biting his lip.

 “I don’t know shit about navigation,” he claimed.

 “We both know it’s not true,” Marco asserted. “You just need to learn specialist terminology and a bit of physics. There’s a library full of books.”

 “Marco,” Ace said through his teeth. His face was red, his eyes glassy. “I can’t learn. I can’t fucking read or write. How exactly am I supposed to learn? How am I supposed to write that stupid reports of yours or logbook? Isn’t that what I have to do as a commander?”

 That’s also something Marco didn’t expect. Not much of a problem though.

 He promptly ignored many implications that were made with Ace not being able to read or write and said, “Then you will learn to write and read and then you will learn the rest. I will help.”

 Ace just looked at him dumbly. “Didn’t you hear what I’ve just said?”

 “No, I did not,” he answered simply. “The promotion party is tomorrow instead of lunch.”

 “Marco-“

 

 To be honest, it was easier than anything. Teaching Ace to read and write. He was a smart kid, just never really discovered, Marco suspected. He had already known basics of hiragana and katakana and most of the romaji, he was just confusing them. He couldn’t exactly write them, panicking about the way it should be written and it was easy to train. A week and Ace was able to write and read. The problems started with kanjis – Ace knew maybe twenty of them and none of them was specifically suited for navigation terminology. Even though Marco didn’t mind reports written in hiragana, the navigators, stubborn like they were, did.

 It was harder but not too hard.

 They had a habit. Every evening, they would sit in the library and learn kanji after kanji. It was surprising, in a way, seeing Ace so calm, so quiet, so focused and so silent. He was still vibrant and bright but so different. He got frustrated easily but never gave up.

 Then they started to have their study sessions every second day. Marco usually found Ace in the library on the days they weren’t learning anyway. He bought him about twenty different dictionaries and books about the weather for kids. They had been writing the reports together, then Ace started to write them on his own first for Marco to check.

 It wasn’t perfect and Marco was still a bit weirded out about how exactly it came to be that Ace couldn’t read and write but it was getting better.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 “ _Have you ever been ashamed of things you have no power over?_ ” his soulmate asked. He rarely spoke up first.

 “ _Of course_ ,” Marco answered immediately. “ _The first time, I was four and the ladies in the orphanage asked for my last name and I couldn’t remember because my mother called me Marco. The most recent time, I fell asleep at the table and my little brother found me having a nightmare_.”

 His soulmate stayed silent.

 “ _It sometimes happens_ ,” he added. “ _What is it? The thing you’re ashamed of_?”

 His soulmate hesitated.

 “ _I was- I was raised by mountain bandits_.” Marco furrowed his eyebrows. “ _In a forest, far away from civilization. I don’t know when to say_ thanks _or_ I’m sorry _or how to call people, I don’t know all that famous people and I don’t understand half of the jokes everyone has been telling me.”_

Marco didn’t reply to that, feeling it wasn’t the end.

 “ _Every day, I have to pretend I know what I’m doing but I don’t_.”

 “ _It’s okay,”_ Marco said. _“It was never your fault and it’s not something you can’t overcome. You just have to learn step by step_.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 “ _Do you want a big family_?” he asked one day, again. Pops had his seventieth birthday that day.

 Marco didn’t have anything better to do than watch over his drunk brothers and sigh from time to time. They were at open sea and it wasn’t the safest option to throw a party. At least everyone was having fun.

 Marco frowned when Ace froze dangerously close to the railing.

 There was a bit of dizziness and a cloud of confusion hovered over his mind. It wasn’t his.

 “ _You know I’m a man, right? Our voices sound a bit weird, foggier in our minds, I suppose. But I’m a man_ ,” his soulmate sputtered. “ _We can’t exactly have a family_.”

 Marco’s face colored and he bit his lip.

 “ _It’s not what I’m talking about_ ,” he explained. “ _I just- I have a lot of sisters and brothers and I know it can be overwhelming for some people_.”

 “Oh,” his soulmate deadpanned. “ _Well, my family was kinda small but it doesn’t mean I’m opposed to a big one_.”

 “ _You sure?_ ” he questioned. “ _As my soulmate, they will just automatically welcome you into the family_.”

 “ _I don’t mind_.”

 “ _But there’s_ a lot _of them_ ,” he insisted. “ _Like, more than a thousand. And most of them are weirdos or assholes or both_.”

 “ _Marco_ ,” his soulmate said. Marco’s heart stopped beating for a moment. “ _I don’t mind_.”

 It may have taken his breath away.

 “ _Good_.”

 “ _Yeah, good_ ,” his soulmate repeated.

 Marco grinned, not in the mood to sigh anymore.

 “ _And about the other kind of family_ ,” he spat out all of sudden. “ _We can still adopt_.”

 His soulmate groaned.

 He didn’t know whose face was warmer – his own or his soulmate’s. But he was still grinning.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 “I think I’m not the right person to ask that, Ace,” was what he heard after an awkward silence and fidgeting.

 Ace had just asked, as confident as he could be, if Marco was his soulmate by any chance.

 Ace, despite what Marco said, asked the right person. He knew Marco was his soulmate, it was purely a formality, there was no denying it. His soulmate’s name was Marco, he was a pirate, he had some kind of big foster family and foster father and he was calm and caring. Ace was pretty sure.

 He backed down the feeling of sadness, suddenly having a dry mouth. He twitched but covered it easily, furrowing his eyebrows and giving Marco a small smile. His heart fluttered.

 “Are you sure?” he insisted, giving Marco the chance to realize what he meant.

 Marco licked his lips, smiling nervously.

 “I don’t know how your soulmate feels,” he began. Ace knew, there was, on the back of his head, second-hand embarrassment, bitter-sweet pity and a lot of paralyzing awkwardness. “But you’re nothing like mine. There’s no way we’re each other’s soulmates.”

 He wanted to close his eyes and blink away the tears but he couldn’t do that so he just stared, letting them dry on its own.

 His mind hazed with the general feeling of darkness around him, the feeling that reminded him of the cold night spent alone in the jungle, with warm fire at his feet and freezing wind blowing in his face, unnamed sounds in his ears, of the drunken laughs in the bars he visited, odor of beer and cheap vodka, and of the numbness that paralyzed him the day Sabo died.

 Marco had to feel it because he frowned, barely opening his mouth and Ace heard in his mind, “ _Are you alright_?” There had to be a moment, very small and short, because Marco asked, whispering, “ _Is that you_?”

 He wasn’t alright but he chuckled abruptly, much more uneasy than before asking anything. He covered it with a sheepish grin, remembering the moments, the way his face moved when Makino scolded him, making his muscles work again, scratching his neck and shrugging.

 “Well, I’ll just keep searching then,” he said, forcing his voice to sound loud and cheerful. “No big deal.”

 Marco didn’t question him again, didn’t hesitate.

 It was better this way. Ace wouldn’t disappoint him this way, not being who Marco thought he was. Not being enough, not being what expected of him. Not being enough for him. Maybe that was how it was supposed to be, the whole soulmate thing didn’t always work out. They probably weren’t that great for each other, Ace wasn't that great for Marco. He could work with that. He was used to being a disappointment anyway.

 “No big deal,” he repeated and left.

 There was still a voice in his mind asking if he was alright and what was happening and how he could help but Ace ignored it, maneuvering through blurry corridors, feeling as if he was wandering in the thick mist, finding the doors to his cabin and trying to sleep off the biggest rejection he had ever had.

 “It’s okay,” he told himself, whispering into his pillow. ”It’s just love. It will go away with time.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 Marco wasn’t sure about the whole thing that happened with Ace. Just for a moment there, feeling his soulmate, so unloved, so empty, seeing Ace’s glassy eyes, he thought he made a mistake, he assumed wrong. And then Ace grinned, a bit awkwardly but happy nonetheless and there was no mistake – his soulmate was on the verge of tears by that point, his heart echoing, something dark overcoming his mind. There was no way it was Ace, not with his happy face and carefree attitude, just like he thought.

 There were too many differences between them. Yes, none of them was calm and collected but they were complete opposites – his soulmate cried, brooded, whined and there was the lack of confidence and deep self-hatred. Ace was on the ship for less than a year but it was enough time to get to know his personality and main traits. Ace was determined, carefree, easily angered, cocky and overconfident. He screamed, he yelled and laughed, and he fought and argued.

 Marco’s soulmate had never been angry, _never_ , and he was so self-conscious and so plain  _sad_ and thought of himself worthless too many times to count. Marco doubted he would ever be able to become such a brave and crazy pirate as Ace. It made life a bit harder – he didn’t expect his soulmate to become the strongest pirate ever but he didn’t want him to stay on some island and wait for Marco’s every visit – he wanted him to sail with him and be a part of the family with him. He loved him anyway but it worried him sometimes.

 Which may have been a mistake. He didn’t know his soulmate, not too well, hadn’t met him. He sometimes wondered if it was pity instead of love. It shouldn’t be a pity. He knew parts of him, he supposed – he knew his soulmate was sensitive and had this caring side of him, that he was deeply connected with the concept of a family, that he was hurt many times in the past but he was still going, that he had a stubborn, strong  part he rarely showed.

 Marco was sure it wasn’t Ace. He just wasn’t sure how to act around Ace, that was it. Asking someone if they were your soulmate was basically a love confession.

 Ace wasn’t too keen on facing Marco too, he probably felt awkward and avoided him the whole day. He didn’t talk to him and, in the galley, he chose the table far away from Marco and his usual sit, mostly near Pops, and didn’t come to Marco at all that day – Marco noticed him in the library before lunch but he didn’t acknowledge him. He was, in a way, grateful.

 Marco’s soulmate was in distress the whole day, being on the edge of crying and despising himself with heated words in his mind. He didn’t answer him when Marco called him in his head. Needless to say, he was more distracted with his soulmate silencing him than with Ace.

 The most disturbing thing was, Marco’s soulmate was relatively happy for the last couple of months. There was this bubbling noise that felt like giggling in Marco’s ears all the time, the warmth and the feeling of being at ease. Of being accepted. And suddenly they were back to the square one.

 “Did you and Ace have a fight or something?” Thatch interrupted his thoughts.

 They were having lunch the day after Ace had asked.  His soulmate wasn’t getting better. When Marco didn’t answer, Izou continued instead of Thatch.

 “It’s weird not to see him next to you,” he spoke up. “The kid has a huge crush on you.”

 Marco grimaced at that.

 “Listen to my girlfriend, brother,” Thatch added. “You’d better not break his heart.”

 Marco blinked, trying to ignore the prickling guilt. He knew there was no other option but he still felt a bit bad for ruining Ace’s hope.

 He tried to distract them from the topic. “It’s _girl_ friend now? I thought it was _boy_ friend today,” he said. “You’re not wearing the hairclip with a flower today.”

 Izou fidgeted but Thatch answered instead of her, “It changed about an hour ago, she forget to go to our room before lunch.”

 Marco was aware of all that. It sometimes happened – Izou usually stayed one gender for the whole day or a couple of them but sometimes it changed abruptly in the middle of the day. Izou would change hairclip then – the one with the flower was for female pronouns. Somehow, Thatch always felt when it happened – they weren’t soulmates for nothing. So, yes, Marco knew all that, he just wanted to distract them. It didn’t work.

 “I’m serious though,” Thatch said. “Don’t break the kid’s heart.”

 Marco sighed, glancing at Ace who was sitting with Pops. Their eyes met but Ace simply turned his gaze away.

 In Marco’s chest, there was this weird ache that made him lose the air in his lungs for a moment. It wasn’t his.

 But it wasn’t Ace’s too. He was smiling brightly, trying to steal Pops’s ochoko.

 “It’s too late for that, I think,” he admitted. “I kind of turned him down.”

 Izou blinked, opening her mouth.

 Marco licked his lips, sighing and still turning his eyes toward Ace. The feeling in his lungs wasn’t giving in.

 “He asked me if I could be his soulmate,” he explained. “It’s like a love confession, isn’t it?”

 Izou looked at him, her gaze steady and her posture stiff. Thatch looked at her sharply with wide eyes, probably feeling something she wasn’t showing openly.

 “Could you?” she asked.

 Marco chuckled nervously, staring at her as if Izou was mad.

 “Did you forgot the part where my soulmate is self-conscious, with a disturbing lack of self-worth and confidence and just depressed?” Marco spat out. He wasn’t angry, not really. Only a bit helpless. “Ace’s nothing like that.”

 It would be easier if Ace was his soulmate. Or if his soulmate was more like Ace. Marco had never gotten anything _easy_ in his life and he wasn’t getting it now.

 Thatch looked to the side, one hand rubbing his nose, the other around his girlfriend’s waist.

 “You know there’s this thing called acting, right?” Izou continued. “Not everyone has their heart on their sleeve.”

 Marco clenched his jaw.

 “What I feel now,” he snapped, “is pure agony, depression, resignation and self-hatred I would never be able to feel on my own behalf. Does Ace seem an even slight bit miserable to you?”

 Thatch and Izou’s eyes wandered the mess hall. Marco made himself still, trying not to peek at him and Pops, stating a point. The bitterness wasn’t leaving his mouth.

 “Acting,” Izou repeated.

 Marco closed his eyes, taking a deep breath despite the tightness in his chest.

 “He doesn’t even match the age,” he replied slowly.

 Thatch raised an eyebrow.

 “Ace’s eighteen. Isn’t your soulmate eighteen?” he questioned.

 “I thought my soulmate is eighteen – I thought that our soulbond opened when he was born,” Marco answered, shuffling, tired of this conversation. “But it’s not possible.”

 “And why not exactly?” Thatch insisted.

 Izou’s stare was making Marco even more uncomfortable.

 “He’s Gold Roger’s kid,” he practically whispered. It felt like screaming in a quiet room instead. “He has to be at least twenty. It’s been more than twenty years since Roger’s death.”

 There was a dead silence at their table for a moment.

 “He’s- _What?_ ” Thatch exclaimed.

 A few people glanced at them but no one said anything, returning to their own conversations. Maybe it was the face Marco was doing that made them back off.

 “Yes, he _is_ ,” Marco added.

 Thatch frowned but turned his gaze to Izou who was stuck in shock, staring in space with thoughts clearly traveling her mind.

 “What is it?” Thatch asked softly. “Izou?”

 It was like breaking a spell. Izou blinked at her soulmate, smiling unsurely but warmly.

 “I’ll tell you later, hon,” she spoke up quietly. “I’ll tell you later.”

 There was another minute or two and no one talked. Thatch fidgeted, glancing between his girlfriend and Marco.

 “I still think you should at least try being with him, ” Thatch said, weirdly serious. “The kid is like a love-sick puppy with you. And if you tell me you don’t like him, I’ll call you a liar. The soulmate thing doesn’t always work out.”

 Izou looked at Ace, meeting his eyes. The teen got up from the table, smiling brightly and Marco felt pain tightening on the back of his head.

 “Sometimes it does,” Izou whispered.

 Next thing he knew, Ace was at their table, asking Marco if they were still up for writing practice this evening. Marco, very conveniently, said he had a lot of paperwork and Izou would gladly take over. Then he got up and left.

 The happy expression stayed on Ace’s face a few seconds too long but then he grinned a bit sheepishly at Izou.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 “ _Is there something wrong_?” Marco asked in his head again. When there was no answer, he tried somewhat differently. “ _Have I done something? Said something_?”

 There was a dead silence. Marco was getting more and more worried, especially since his soulmate’s mood wasn’t an ounce better. Marco hadn’t felt so much sorrow through the bond in a long time. Well, relatively long time because there weren’t many times his soulmate stayed purely happy. Also, it felt much stronger than it felt a year or two. Maybe because his soulmate was so at ease the last couple of months now it seemed so _strong_.

 There was a meaningful ache in his lungs, the one that made it hard to breathe and even harder to talk and think, reminding about itself with every move. Marco’s throat was closing on itself, dry and bitter at the same time as if he was eating glass shards, and he experienced something like a _stabbing_ in his chest, itchy, trembling and steady. There was this weird feeling that always manifested similarly to the heat after being slapped on the cheek – the self-hatred and self-destructive thoughts his soulmate was going through.

 His soulmate, who stopped answering to Marco’s _anything_ two days ago.

 “ _What’s going on_?” Marco tried again. “ _Don’t close on me, please_.”

 He leaned back in his chair, touching the desk with his hands and wrinkling some paper while fidgeting. His eyes wandered to the ceiling, not fully concentrated on anything else but his and his soulmate’s emotions.

 His soulmate didn’t say a word but Marco practically felt his hands pushing away Marco's mind and thoughts as if fighting them off.

 “ _You know I’m always there for you, right_?” he spoke up again. “ _No matter what, I care about you._ ”

 Suddenly, for the lack of better words, Marco’s lungs were on fire, sparking, aching, and his vision blurred with tears welling in his eyes. His muscles tensed, partially mimicking his soulmate but mostly giving into shock. His soulmate was, the first time in his life, angry. The tears weren’t sad ones but salty, frustrated ones that burned on his cheeks and his fist were closing without Marco’s knowledge.

 “ _Unconditional love my ass_ ,” his soulmate spat out, almost hissing at him. “ _It’s one big bullshit_.”

 Before Marco could say anything, the connection weakened. And then, for maybe two minutes, he felt _nothing_. Nothing. It was like everything froze, remaining in between time and he forgot to breathe for a minute there. Blankness, pure emptiness was in his head. It was something he had forgotten for almost twenty years. The lack of presence of another person.

 He started panicking, his pulse speeding up and ringing in his ears but a moment later and his soulmate’s presence was back.

 Marco’s hands couldn’t stop shaking for the next two hours.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 “Ace,” he heard. “Come inside. The nurses are fretting you will get a cold. We’re nearing the winter island.”

 Ace smiled softly at that, just to himself.

 “I can’t get a cold, Pops,” he answered quietly. “I’m literally made of fire.”

 Ace had his back to Whitebeard, his tattoo clear and contrasting with the skin of his back, but he practically saw how Whitebeard’s eyebrow raised.

 “Doesn’t mean they won’t fret.”

 He hugged himself with his arms, still not moving to face Pops. He sighed, almost feeling the headache he could get because, once again, he was made of fire. _It was just a phantom pain_ , he supposed. _It’s always just a phantom pain_.

 He licked his lips, forcing his voice to be stable, “I’ll go to my room in a moment. Don’t worry too much, Pops.”

 He couldn’t watch the stars on the sky forever anyway. And, well, he could try not to feel anything a room away from his soulmate. There was not much of a difference and, Ace supposed, he should start getting used to it. Marco was great, he would be great no matter what but Ace needed some distance between them, even just to move on and forget how _hope_ felt like.

 “Is something bothering you?” Whitebeard asked, not moving to go back to his cabin for the night.

 He hid his face in his knees for a moment, not knowing how to answer. He didn’t like blatant lies, not to the family, not when it wasn’t necessary, not without a reason. But there was so much Pops just wasn’t aware of, so much that Ace had been covering from other people’s eyes and resisting. Showing emotions, especially the ones that made him feel weak, _insecure_ – it was a foreign concept for him.

 “It’s just- There’s- I-“ he started, giving up before explaining anything. He sighed to himself.

 “I’m still listening, Ace,” Whitebeard encouraged softly.

 Ace closed his eyes, praying to stay calm.

 “Is there something wrong with me?” he spat out.

 Whitebeard didn’t say anything for a moment. Ace dreaded the silence.

 “Where did that come from?” he asked in the end, his tone of voice not telling anything.

 Ace looked at the sky again.

 “It’s just- I guess-“ he tripped over his words. “I was always a disappointment. No matter how much- How much I try- I just- I’m never enough. Is there something wrong with me?”

 Ace didn’t take the chance to turn around but he could feel Pops’s gaze on his back, so intense and fierce.

 “You are never a disappointment to us, Ace,” he said, loud and clear. “I don’t know who told you that but you are never a disappointment to us.”

 He snorted, clenching his jaw. There was silence.

 “I’ll give you a few minutes to yourself,” Whitebeard said. “Come to my room after that, won’t you?”

 Ace smiled.

 “Sure.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 It was all an accident.

 Marco wasn’t planning on coming to Thatch for at least a couple of hours – but there was a mistake in the report and he still needed the list of supplies they needed to stock on for the kitchen on the next island. He went to the kitchens with the reports from last week in hand.

 Thatch, as the head chef, had the luxury of having his own sort of a kitchen – a small attached room that was a spices store room and cooks’ library but there was enough space to have a stove and a countertop.

 Thatch spent most of his time there with Izou, perfecting recipes and creating new ones. The door was always open, there were no portholes inside since it was partially under the line of water and the cooking made the air steamy. No one really minded even though Thatch and Izou tended to get _intense_ when alone.

 Marco wasn’t surprised hearing voices through the half-open door. He was surprised by Ace’s voice, though.

 “I thought you just didn’t have the mark tattooed,” Marco heard.

 He _shouldn’t_ be surprised, really. Usually Ace stayed close to him following through the day, only wandering off to perform his duties as the Second Division Commander but the last two days he talked with Marco maybe twice. That whole time had to go somewhere.

 For some reason, he froze behind the door, not really knowing what to do. He avoided Ace because he didn’t know how to act around him and still didn’t know that.

 “I have a one on my thigh too,” Izou said. “Every commander has one, I guess.”

 “To be honest,” Marco practically heard the smirk in Thatch’s voice, ”if I were you, I wouldn't get such a big tattoo after the mess that is on your arm.”

 Thatch laughed and Ace laughed with him. It seemed a bit strained and just plain fake. Ace had never felt fake, the kid must have been one of these overhonest people who couldn’t lie to save his life.

 “It’s actually a funny story,” Ace quipped.

 “Is it?” Thatch retorted playfully.

 There was a long silence. Marco heard Izou shifting, her geta cracking on the wooden floor.

 “Not really,” Ace admitted, his voice sounding cold. “It’s my dead brother’s Jolly Roger. It wasn’t a mistake.”

 Marco stilled, his breath held up in his throat. Yes, everyone knew Ace had the tattoo with crossed S on his arm but everyone assumed, just like Thatch, it was tattoo artist’s mistake. And to be frank, there was something unnerving in the whole situation. Ace had had a brother none of them knew about – Ace seemed like an open book most of the time, with his cheerful attitude and carefreeness there was not much to hide, would seem. Somehow, Marco realized, they didn’t really know that much about him but he knew a lot about them. It was, as he said, unnerving.

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to-“ Thatch started.

 Ace chuckled a bit forcefully.

 “It’s okay,” his voice trembled but it didn’t sound like a lie. “What’s the point of having this tribute tattoo if no one knows, right?”

 Izou, very calmy and with soft voice Marco rarely heard from her, asked, “A tribute, huh?”

 There was shuffling and Marco knew Ace fidgeted, he tended to do that a lot.

 His soulmates heart pounded rapidly, making Marco a tad bit confused. His throat wasn’t clenching, mimicking sadness, but had this weird emptiness that screamed lose.

 Marco’s breath hitched.

 Ace cleared his throat. Marco imagined him shrugging, still seeing only the light coming through the door to Thatch’s kitchen.

 “We were supposed to set sail, not together but at the same time. It was his Jolly Roger,” he explained slowly, choosing his words carefully. “But Sabo was killed by Celestial Dragons before it happened. We were twelve.”

 Marco’s heart stopped.

 He blinked, his eyes wide, his mouth open. He leaned against on his hand, thinking fast-forward.

 There was no way Ace knew about that small little detail. Yes, Marco’s soulmate had a brother who was killed as an innocent kid. Yes, his soulmate’s brother’s name was Sabo. But Marco had never told anyone about that – not Thatch, not Pops. Ace couldn’t know about it.

 Did it mean what he thought it did? Was Ace his soulmate? That wasn’t an option, right? There was no resemblance between Ace and his soulmate, was there? It couldn’t be him. It couldn’t.

 But couldn’t it really? There were so many things they didn’t know about Ace, maybe they didn’t know him so well, maybe it all was just acting, as Izou said. He did ask Marco for a reason, maybe they were soulmates after all. Maybe Marco was so sure it wasn’t him that it blinded him, maybe he stopped thinking logically. Come to think of it, the bond opened when Ace showed up. Maybe it was the first sign.

 There was also a possibility Ace had two brothers, right? One named Sabo, and the other who was Marco’s soulmate. It just didn’t sound right.

 One way to find out, he supposed.

 He grabbed the doorknob, feeling a little breathless.

 The first thing he saw was Izou’s mouth opened as if she wanted to say something and Thatch leaning on his hands against the countertop. Both stilled at his presence.

 Marco glanced at Ace and their gazes met, just for a couple of seconds. Ace looked away awkwardly, seemingly more interested in the floor. He was rubbing a place on his chest, just under the sternum, where Marco felt the tightening.

 Marco’s breath didn’t return, not yet. There was one way to check. Only one.

 “ _Ace, did you give me your report for last week_?” he asked in his mind, trying to sound steady.

 He didn’t even peek at him before answering out loud, “I left it on your desk this morning.”

 Thatch and Izou looked at each other.

 Marco’s breath was stuck in his lungs. There was no mistake. No mistake. He covered his mouth with his palm, frozen on the spot and furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

 “ _Did you have any problems with the kanjis_?” he continued, still through the bond.

 Ace smiled and Marco’s heart skipped a beat.

 “No, Izou helped me with the worst yesterday,” he said.

 There was a deep, uncomfortable silence wandering around the room just after he spoke up. No one said anything, lingering in the awkwardness. Marco had the urge to sit down and hide his face in his hands, to contemplate how it come to be _this._ How he didn’t realize.

 Ace turned back to them with earn eyes and ghost of a gentle smile on his lips. He looked between them, confused and unsettled by the weird behavior. He still didn’t meet Marco’s eyes but he was glancing in his vague direction. Marco couldn’t stop staring.

 Izou absently took Thatch by the arm, not moving her eyes away from them.

 “I think we should leave them alone,” she whispered.

 Thatch made a face.

 “That’s my kitchen, why should I-“

 They left the room, Izou dragging Thatch behind herself.

 “What’s going on?” Ace asked, his voice quiet and hesitant.

 Marco wanted to step up to him but his body couldn’t move. He blinked a few times, trying to find words in his mouth, never reaching them.

 “ _I know it’s you, Ace_ ,” he thought very clearly.

 Ace's eyes widened and Marco’s heartbeat sped up – he wasn’t able to recognize whose reaction that was, his own or his soulmate’s. _Ace’s **.**_

 “I know,” he sputtered aloud.

 Ace’s muscles tensed as if he was preparing for something. Marco wasn’t quite sure for what. His eyes, in the color of warm chocolate, were big but his face stayed unreadable, rest of the smile gone. Marco could feel his throat closing on itself, his palms getting sweaty all of sudden. It was mimicking Ace’s reaction.

 There was an undeniable pain in Marco’s heart.

 “Why didn’t you tell me?”

 Ace lifted his chin up, daring Marco with his gaze, staring him in the eyes, stone-cold.

 “Why should I?”

 Marco’s breath hitched in his throat and he wasn’t sure whose was the fast beating pulse.

 “ _Why should you_?” he repeated blindly after him, practically whispering. “Maybe because the universe has chosen us to be perfect for each other.”

 Ace averted his gaze and Marco’s heart broke a little.

 “We both know the universe isn’t always right,” he supplied stubbornly. “Do you really want risk everything just to try something you won’t like in the end? I’ve never had a complete family, Marco. I don’t want to lose it just because.”

 Marco took a step but Ace moved away from him when he tried to grab his arm.

 “You won’t lose anything,” he insisted. “It’s not a risk if you know it will work out. We’ve been already working out.”

 “We haven’t been. There is a difference with us in person and with us in our minds,” Ace replied smoothly.

 “Ace,” he said calmly. “I can literally feel you lying.”

 He looked Marco straight in the eyes, and the rapid heartbeat stilled.

 “I’m not lying,” he spoke up, his voice steady and emotionless. “We’re too different to ever work out. We’re just not suited for each other.”

 Marco licked his lips, feeling more hopeless than he had for the last eighteen years.

 “You don’t believe that,” he tried again.

 Ace took a step to the side but Marco didn’t move.

 “Actually, I do.”

 He moved to the doors and before anything, he was gone.

 “Ace-“ was stuck in Marco’s throat.

 There was coldness in his chest but a fire in his heart. His muscles tensed and there was a moment when he couldn’t move or breathe.

 He stared at the left space, with Ace’s name on his lips and feeling useless.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 Marco didn’t know what to do.

 Ace ignored him, avoiding him and pretending nothing happened. Marco really didn’t know what to do. Of course, he tried to talk with Ace – he came to him on his own a few times but Ace had Observation Haki and managed to leave before they actually met. He still had to give his reports and inform Marco about the weather but every time he did it, they were in public or Ace brushed him off, invoking his duties, turning the conversation on Marco like a pro. Ace, he had to admit, was able to manipulate people and their speech when he wanted. It may have come even easier to him with Marco involved, with their soulbond and all. It reminded him that he didn’t know Ace that much in the end.

 “I don’t know what to do!” he spat out, entering Thatch’s private kitchen.

 Izou jumped away from Thatch. There was a simple black hair clip holding his hair. The arm of his kimono slipped from his shoulder, uncovering the pale skin.

 Thatch sighed.

 “Hello to you too, Marco. I’m good, thanks. How are you today?” he mocked.

 “I’m horrible!” he yelled, moving in a circle in the small space of the room.

 Izou massaged Thatch’s shoulder to calm him down. He was still frowning.

 “I’m supposed to ask what it is, aren’t I?” Thatch snorted.

 “You’re his best friend, hon,” Izou noticed. “It’s kind of your job.”

 He sighed again when Izou stopped making patterns with his thumb on his arm, moving to find his sketchbook which lied forgotten somewhere in the room.

 Marco was still going round in circles, making a path of anger around the kitchen. It looked ridiculous.

 “What is it, best friend of mine?”

 Marco wasn’t laughing or even smiling.

 “Ace is _my soulmate_ ,” he hissed.

 Thatch cut him short, saying, “Well, we established it two days ago when we left you two in here to do unspeakable things I don’t want to think about.”

 Marco made a face, glaring at him.

 “Ace is my soulmate,” he repeated stubbornly, “and he doesn’t want to even try being together.”

 They both looked at him abruptly. Izou sat down on one of the chairs near the countertop, sketchbook left on his lap.

 “He said we won’t work out. He said-“ Marco glanced at the floor, remembering the words clearly and loudly. “He said we’re too different.”

 “Bullshit,” Thatch replied easily. “Yeah, you’re not the same but you complement each other.”

 “That’s what I told him,” Marco continued. “He’s not listening to anything I say and when he does, he simply turns the questions on me.”

 “Can’t you corner him up and just get on with it? It’s Ace we’re talking about,” the cook suggested.

 “First of all, Marco is trying to be gentle. You could learn from him.” Thatch made a face. “Second of all, yes, it’s Ace we’re talking about. Didn’t you notice he does and shows only what is in his comfort zone?”

 They both looked at Izou as if he grew a second head.

 “What?” he exclaimed. “He’s always been closed off. He’s been getting better recently but still.”

 Marco’s head felt dizzy all of sudden. If Ace had been getting better, why did he stop? Why did he reject them before they could become them? Even though he knew Ace’s emotions, he was confused about him more and more. Was Ace really this good at forging happiness? Was he really this sad, this resigned the whole time? Was he really only acting? Why had he been acting, then?

 “To answer your question, I think you should concentrate on the reason why he thinks what he thinks,” Izou added.

 Marco glanced at Thatch but he just shrugged. Izou furrowed his eyebrows at him.

 “What’s Ace feeling right now?”

 “I don’t really know. It’s been vague at best the last couple of days,” Marco answered, shifting. His gaze saddened. “I don’t know how he does that but he’s kind of blocking out most of his emotions.”

 Thatch gave him a nervous glance, not liking the sound of it.

 “Try to describe it anyway,” Izou insisted.

 Marco looked to the side with hazy eyes as if not seeing anything he was glancing at.

 “It’s nothing positive,” he started slowly. “There’s stinging- stinging in my chest. In his chest. And his eyes are dry, and he’s got a headache – or something like a headache, he never gets them, can’t get them.”

 There was a moment of silence.

 “I think he is in distress.”

 “Loathing,” Izou corrected, folding his arms. “He’s always been self-conscious, sad and lacking self-worth, right?”

 Marco bit his lip but he could only nod.

 “Think, Marco,” Izou’s voice cut across the room, filling the space too loudly. “Ace, who considers himself worthless, gathered the courage to make the first step and asked you if you are his soulmate. You told him you’re not.”

 “I told him he’s nothing like my soulmate,” he sputtered, breathless.

 “How do you think he took it?”

 Izou’s face was blank and calm but Marco’s heart was pounding in his ears. He felt ashamed – he was always talking about making his soulmate feel better about himself and there he was, the main reason Ace backed into himself. He was so _insensitive_ to him.

 No one said anything. Thatch fidgeted.

 “To be honest, Marco,” Izou spoke up again, “if he doesn’t understand how you feel about him literally knowing what you feel, I can’t find a way you would be able to make him understand.”

 Marco clenched his jaw.

  “I will, somehow,” promised.

 Izou smiled, picking up his sketchbook.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 “Not that I’m angry or anything, Ace, but why are you hiding behind me exactly?”

 Ace looked up at Pops who was calmly drinking his forbidden sake and just observing the sunset which could be clearly seen from the quarterdeck. They docked a day before at small summer island that welcomed them quite blatantly, throwing a party for them. Most of the crew was still out somewhere or drunk in their cabins. It was rather a normal day until Ace ran up to him and sat behind his giant chair. After maybe fifteen minutes Whitebeard was simply too curious about what was going on.

 “Have you talked with Marco in the last two days maybe?” he replied with a question.

 He was looking kind of nervous but probably most hiding people looked nervous. Ace was usually more carefree, to be honest, but the kid was so insecure he had every right to be openly nervous from time to time.

 “No,” Pops answered. “Well, yes, but about nothing out of ordinary. Marco, for a pirate, is quite boring at times, isn’t he?”

 Ace tried to bit down the smile and tried to hide it behind his hand. Whitebeard chuckled.

 “What is it about Marco then?” he prodded.

 Ace licked his lips, absently hugging himself with one arm.

 “He kind of found out something about me,” he mumbled. “He’s acting weird now.”

 Whitebeard hummed at that, taking a sip of sake. Ace sat there, not knowing if there was a way not to continue.

 “Did he find out you’re soulmates?”

 Ace looked up at him, blinking. Whitebeard chuckled again.

 “How do you- Are the rumors spreading so fast?” he spat out.

 “Oh, come on. I knew as soon as, twelve years ago,  he had a panic attack because he could hear his soulmate’s thoughts,” he said. “I’ve met only one couple who could hear each other’s minds.”

 Ace stared at him blankly.

 “Your parents.”

 Ace glanced away, clenching his jaw. They both knew he hated the topic of his parents but Whitebeard never respected it, claiming it to be bullshit and nonsense.

 “Yeah,” Ace snorted. “Another great feature I got from that asshole.”

 “I know you aren’t the biggest fan of your father but your parents were soulmates,” he replied. “If you talk about your father, you talk about your mother too. It applies to every topic.”

 Ace’s eyes wandered to the side, avoiding any contact.

 “I love my mom,” he said. “I really do.”

 “They were connected with each other in more ways than one, Ace,” he spoke up softly. “That’s what it means to be soulmates.”

  Ace bit his lip.

 “Now, tell me what that soulmate of yours has done,” he added.

  Ace let out a long breath, sounding tired and resigned all of sudden. He made a face sending Whitebeard a pleading glare.

 “As I said, he’s acting weird,” he went on. “He bought me flowers.”

  Whitebeard started laughing, probably waking up half of the drunks on the Moby Dick with the sound. Ace grimaced, waiting.

 “And what did you do?” Pops asked, still grinning teasingly.

 “I lit the flowers on fire.”

 Whitebeard started laughing like a maniac again.

 “I didn’t mean to!” Ace protested. “We were in the harbor and some guy called us _fags_ and I got angry and fired up just like that and the flowers caught fire and just-“

 Whitebeard wasn’t stopping laughing. Ace kicked him but it was half-hearted at best.

 “ _Pops_.”

 “Okay, okay,” he chirped. “Why exactly did he buy you flowers anyway? You don’t seem like the type-“

 “Because I’m not,” he cut him short. “He’s, as he said, making up. Convincing me to give us a try.”

 Whitebeard frowned at that.

 “Convincing?” he questioned. “I thought you had already been a couple for the last two months. What with all that dates you had in the library?”

 “He was _teaching_ me, Pops,” Ace spat out.

 “Whatever you kids call it these days,” Whitebeard snorted, smirking.

 Ace made a face.

 “Anyway,” he backtracked, staring at the wooden floor. “We are not and we won’t be.”

 Whitebeard’s face became serious, his eyebrows furrowed.

 “I know you’re both adults despite what everyone, myself included, says,” he began slowly, “but maybe this time you should keep in mind his feelings a bit more.”

 “I’m doing that right now,” Ace answered, completely sure of himself. His voice was empty. “I’m thinking how he’ll feel. In the future.”

 “You can’t hide from him forever,” Whitebeard quipped.

 Ace looked him in the eyes, his body staying still and his breath stuck in his lungs.

 “I can’t,” he agreed. “But right now, I’m. So please, distract me for the time being.”

 There was a long moment of silence.

 “Did you know your mother was a pirate too?” he said finally. Ace smiled gently, silently thanking Pops for understanding. “She was a captain of an all-female crew. No one ever suspected though, she looked too pure and innocent to be a wanted criminal, nonetheless a captain. She was-“

 Ace spent the rest of the evening listening to the stories about his mom.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 It was dark when he moved back to his room. To be honest, Ace was sleepy as hell but it may have been just echo of Marco who was taking care of everyone today – drunk pirates staying in town or wandering to the forest were usually the reasons they had had to leave an island before log pose settled. Marco was awake since yesterday morning and Ace knew he was probably still somewhere, keeping an eye on the crew.

 Most of the time, Ace would be helping him but nowadays everything about the two of them was different.

 As soon as Ace neared his room, doors to Marco’s own opened. Ace hated that they had quarters opposite each other only because of their divisions’ numbers.

 “Ace,” he began, noticing him.

 He looked as tired as Ace felt (and maybe felt), with shadows under his eyes, ruffled hair and paled skin. Ace saw him like that a lot – it was usually close to him falling asleep. To be honest, Ace was used to it – Marco tended to feel drained every time they docked and Ace felt it every time too, not really showing it on himself though. He was used to exhaustion in general, remembering long nights in the forest on Down Island and the days when, still sailing alone, he was bound by the lull on the sea. His or not, it felt the same.

 “Can we not do it now?” Ace begged. “I’m tired. Or you’re tired. Or we’re both tired, doesn’t really matter.”

 He moved to the doorknob.

 “Wait,” Marco spat out. “I just wanted to say sorry for what happened in the harbor. I should have known better- old sailors and those stupid legends about the men at sea and-“

 Ace closed his eyes, leaning on the doorframe. He didn’t even know why he hadn’t ignored him and gone straight to his room. Maybe it was this peace, this kindness Marco was emitting – it always lulled Ace into staying.

 “What’s your point?” he asked, not looking at Marco. It sounded sharp.

 “I- Uhm- Well,” Marco stuttered. It was kind of cute but Ace made himself not think about it. “Just- Wait a moment.”

 There was a brief period of time, not long but long enough that Ace wondered if he could simply go and hide in his cabin before Marco came back from his room.

 Ace froze.

 Marco was holding a bouquet of a dozen red hibiscuses and smiling softly at him, his cheeks in the shade of pink that matched the flowers.

 “Izou said they are your favorites."

 Ace took a deep breath, light-headed, before answering, “My mom used to love them.”

 “They suit you,” Marco added, handing the bouquet to him.

 Ace took them absently, his gaze not leaving the flaming red petals. He was stiff and a bit overwhelmed, images flowing through his head and his heart speeding, his lungs hollow, blood thumping in his ears. The feeling was vaguely associated with nights spent in the bars asking questions or with his every birthday since he turned six.

 Marco scrutinized him, his eyebrows subtlely furrowed in worry.

 Ace didn’t know why his body reacted like that, why he reacted like that. Maybe it was because he spent the whole evening listening to those great stories about his mom from Pops. Maybe because he was on an emotional rollercoaster the last couple of days. Maybe because the memories of his mom were fresh again, still as painful and as beautiful as years ago. Maybe because he remembered again these two or so pictures of his mom Gramps showed him.  Maybe because he remembered that unclear memory of the day he was born, of her soft smile and her tears.

 Maybe that was why the only thing he could think of was that, in the memory from eighteen years ago, his mom had one of this bright red hibiscus flowers tucked behind her ears, smiling down at him, holding him and _dying_. It was one of the most blatant details he could clearly recall – red petals of hibiscus in her blond locks.

 Maybe that’s why he started crying hopelessly, tears coming out of nowhere and so fast he didn’t even notice. The sob stuck in his throat.

 “Ace?” Marco asked gently. “Ace, what’s going on? I’m so sorry-“

 He continued on and the sobs left Ace’s mouth as soon as his chest heated, circling around his heart, enveloping his body like a warm summer wind – just an echo. If anything, it was making his cries worse.

 Marco stepped closer and Ace couldn’t even move out of his way. His hand hovered over Ace’s shoulders, hesitating.

 “Ace, can I hug?” he asked softly, not taking his eyes off Ace’s face. When he didn’t say anything, frozen, Marco added, “I’m hugging you now, okay?”

 Next thing Ace knew, there were arms around him and for a second he hesitated what to do – but it was only a second. That didn’t have to mean anything.

 Then, Marco was overstepping him, walking him to his room, taking the red hibiscuses from his hand and sitting him down on his bed.

 The red hibiscuses, vivid and bright, the ones his mom’s smile was so connected to, the ones from Ace’s most precious memory, were lying on the night table.

 It probably had been too much for him for one day. Holding back had always been Ace’s strong feature. Especially holding back emotions, even for years.

 He cried half of the night, still safely enveloped in Marco’s arms. There were quiet, tender whispers in his mind. _It’s okay. I got you. It’s okay. I’m here_.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 Waking up for Ace wasn’t a problem, He was used to sleeping in weird places and getting up at the dawn.

 His bed was surprisingly hot this time and his eyes were hurting, most likely bloodshot and dry, and he still felt tired but a bit more at peace. There was warmth all over his body, his hands lukewarm, his muscles relaxed, and his cheek probably colored. He opened his eyes.

 There was Marco’s smiling face on the pillow next to him. Ace blinked.

 A bouquet of hibiscus flowers was in a vase on his night table, right next to his cowboy hat. He was still wearing the shorts from yesterday but his knife holder was nowhere in sight as was his belt.

 Marco was there, inches away, with ruffled hair and kind eyes and that fond smile, just being his perfect self. He wasn’t wearing the sash or his belt, or his shirt.

_His shoulders were a work of art._

 “Why, thank you, Ace. Glad you like my shoulders,” Marco teased, his voice kind. “Are you feeling better?” he asked, raising his hand and tucking a strand of hair behind Ace’s ear.

 It was like a wake-up call. Ace sat up, making a bigger distance between them. His glanced at the vase with hibiscuses, but still keeping an eye on Marco.

 “I’m pretty sure it was a rhetorical question,” he answered coldly.

 Marco leaned up on his elbow, frowning.

 “Ace?”

 He moved out of the bed, snatching his belt from the floor and his hat from the night table. It was clumsy and rapid but he managed. Marco sat up, a confused look on his face.

 “You know that doesn’t mean anything,” Ace said. “We’re still only- We’re still- We are not _that_.”

 Marco clenched his jaw.

 “Not what?” he spat out. “Soulmates? A couple? Two people loving each other?”

 There was a meaningful silence when they stared at each other. Ace ruffled his hair with his hand, frustrated sound leaving his mouth.

 “What do you expect from me, then?” he replied.

 “The thing is, Ace,” Marco answered, “I don’t expect from you anything. Except maybe cooperating because we have to _talk.”_

 Ace didn’t say anything, clenching his jaw. His muscles were tense and Marco clearly felt his fight or flight response to the threat. Usually Ace decided on the fight option but this time Marco wasn’t so sure he would.

 Finally, Ace sat down on the bed, as far away from him as he could. He put his hat on the side, not showing anything on his face.

 “So talk,” he said.

 Marco hesitated. He wanted to close the space between them and just hold Ace, touch him, put a hand on his knee, hug him, make him feel safe. Maybe a week or two it would have worked but now Ace was too guarded, too reluctant to let them be.

 Marco took a deep breath, deciding.

 “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he began a bit breathless, “but maybe we should try being just friends first.”

 Ace’s face stayed composed but certain hollowness gathered in his lungs and his body paralyzed for a moment. Marco wanted to grab his hand and calm him down it’d have made everything worse.

 Then, the tension left Ace’s body accompanied by a long sigh. He was actually relieved and Marco didn’t know how he felt about it.

 “That could work,” Ace said, his voice still cautious and a bit surprised.

 Marco fidgeted, leaning closer to Ace.

 “But I have one condition,” he added.

 Ace raised an eyebrow, biting his lip.

 “Which is?”

 “You won’t hold back your emotions,” Marco explained. “And I mean not blocking them from me _and_ answering me honestly when I ask what’s going on.”

 Ace looked at him, his eyes wandering over his body. The feeling of two people pulling on a rope in different directions was present once again, in both of their chests.

 “It’s a fair deal, isn’t it?” Marco said, trying to sound soft.

 Their gazes met.

 “Okay,” Ace agreed.

 Marco smiled at that.

 It was a really short relief because Ace got up the same second, putting on his belt and moving to the door, his hat hanging around his neck.

 “ _Really_?” Marco spat out. “I just said we have to talk and less than five minutes and you’re already running away?”

 Ace turned around, grinning. It was so bright Marco couldn’t breathe.

 “It’s around ten. I was supposed to go and check with Sammy this morning,” he said, amused. “On the route off the island, there is a cliff and cliff equals sunken rocks. Water around here is shallow so- You know, doing my job.”

 Marco kinda blushed.

 Ace smirked playfully, looking so much like him and so different at the same time. There was that fresh spark in his eyes, one Marco learned to love.

 “We’ll talk later,” he said, almost like a whisper.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“So flowers didn’t work,” Marco deadpanned.

 Izou blinked and Thatch, sitting next to them, snorted.

 “You slept with him and you say flowers didn’t work? What were you expecting, a wedding band?” Thatch teased.

 Marco glared at him.

 “We both know it was not that kind of sleeping,” he supplied.

 “You should try the food next,” Izou remarked. “Take him to some restaurant, or rather a buffet or to the market stalls.”

 Marco looked to the side, at the entrance to the mess hall, noticing Ace coming in with Sammy, with whom he was supposed to talk this morning. He didn’t show up at breakfast so they probably came later and mooched food for themselves – Ace hadn’t been going hungry, of that Marco was sure.

 Ace noticed him staring and waved at him, sending him a shy smile. He and Sammy made their way to the lunch queue. Marco couldn’t take his eyes off that smile.

 “I kinda think you should have started the seducing with food. It’s Ace,” Thatch joked.

  Marco furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t glance away from Ace’s happy face.

 “There will be no seducing. We’ve decided to stay just friends for now,” he said absently.

 Izou snorted, raising their eyebrow and biting their lip.

 “The way you’re staring at his ass definitely says just friends,” they noticed.

 Marco looked away from Ace, glaring at them. His face was a bit red though because he kind of was staring.

 “I wasn’t-“ he began. Deciding not to incriminate himself further, he changed the topic, “He looks happier, doesn’t he?”

 Izou smiled, leaning on their elbows. “He does,” they admitted.

 Ace didn’t come to their table. He stayed with Sammy, discussing something lively and eating the amount of food that could satisfy six other people. When he finished, Sammy got up and left. Ace moved to their table, a casual expression on his face – it was totally fake, Marco heard his speeding pulse in his ears and there was a phantom feeling of clammy hands.

 Marco was pretty sure he had a lovestruck expression himself, especially seeing the way Thatch and Izou snickered.

 “Marco,” Ace said, his voice soft, awkward, and shy, far more suiting him than the cold tone he had been using just a day ago but also so different from the Ace he had seen two weeks ago.

 His own name still sounded fantastic on his mouth.

 “Ace,” he replied, breathless and even more awkward.

 Izou practically cooed in the background while Thatch rolled his eyes.

 “I just-“ Ace began. It was amazing because he was finally looking him in the eyes. “About the route off- We need to find a different path, we’re going with Sammy to do the recon of the other side of the island and search for some maps in town, I’ll leave you a report later.”

 Marco smiled at that, admittedly very lovestruck.

 “Actually,” he began, deciding you only live once, “it can wait. I wanted to go to town with you, scout the island like we usually do. We can search for maps if you want, go to the marketplace, eat something there.”

 Ace hugged himself with his arm, looking very cute, and smiled unsurely. Marco practically melted.

 “Okay,” he said slowly. “I just have to talk with my division and, well, I’ll see you around?”

 “Yeah,” Marco spoke up softly. “See you around.”

 Ace smiled at him again, leaving, and Marco sighed quite happy.

 As soon as Ace was out the door, Izou grinned.

 “Who’s got a date?” they asked, a sly grin overcoming their face.

 Thatch looked at them, a mirroring smile on his face.

 “Marco’s got a date!” he cheered.

 They burst into a fit of giggles and Marco groaned.

  _It wasn't a date._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _As usual, if you see any mistakes, typos or other annoying things, do tell me. English is only my second language and words tend to be messed up by me._  
>   
> 
> I have a MarcoAce one-shot almost ready. As in, wholly written on paper. The second part of this series (LawLu) is almost ready too, as in written on paper with 3/4 rewritten digitally. (Is this correct wording? It's like two AM while I'm writing it and it just sounds bad.) Another series, one where Ace is afraid of fire, 1/2 is written on paper so. Also, since I decided to practice drawing I'm making some art for my fanfics.
> 
> I don't really know how I will write it with school and a job and with making a portfolio for the university but I will.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who read it, commented it, left kudos or bookmarked it! I hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, some of you may have noticed it was supposed to be 3 chapters but the third one for some reason became really long so I divided it in the most appropriate scene I could. It's still pretty long, I think, not as long as most of my chapter but whatever.
> 
> Also, those who read my fics in general may have noticed I have some headcanons for One Piece/ MarcoAce / Whitebeard's crew. So I'm writing them down here, just bc.  
> -Ace's parents had a big age difference, like, 25 years or so. Roger was smitten with Rogue from the start but she hated him at first. First ten years or so, to be specific. They didn't want to have kids until they retired. They were planning on retiring about the same time Roger found about the sickness and Rogue got pregnant.  
> -Rogue was a pirate captain of an all-female crew. The weren't well-known bc government didn't want to admit they were regularly tricked and beaten by a bunch of women. Rogue was one of the greatest navigators in history. She assisted with sailing to Raftel too.  
> -Ace loves flowers but he will never admit it. Favorites: sunflowers (remind him of Luffy) and hibiscuses (his mom has one on every photo of her).  
> -Ace's personality is a mix of his parents'. He's stubborn like his mom, has her talent for navigation and her pride but his cheerfulness, more childish behavior and being dramatic little shit is all Roger's. Despite getting Roger's hair and eye color, his facial features are mirror images of his mom but mannerism and expressions are Roger's.  
> -Ace has severe mental problems, as in anxiety, depression, trust issues. It comes mostly from his childhood and the whole thing with Roger. I just don't believe that kind of upbring and Sabo's death doesn't have an impact on him. (Sabo was 12 when he 'died', Ace was 13, Luffy 10)  
> -Ace learned observation haki by accident and can use armament haki but it's harder. He has zero control over conqueror's haki though.  
> -Marco was an orphan since a young age, he doesn't remember his parents anymore. Pops scouted him when he was barely a teen and left the island with him. Marco, before meeting Pops, wanted to be a doctor, started medical school.  
> -HIs oldest friend and sibling was the late 2nd Division Commander (Delayla, my OC in this case). Marco, Thatch and she were best friends.  
> -Every division on the Moby Dick has its special field (much like on normal ships, I've been sailing since I was around 6 years old)- 1st is made out of nurses, the 2nd division is made out of navigators, Haruta's division is responsible for communication, Izou's for artistic things, Thatch's for food. There are at least two divisions that are made out of fighters who are supposed to protect the non-fighting divisions. Commanders have to be decent fighters to protect their division in case of emergency.  
> -I headcanon Izou as either genderfluid or as male. Also, born and raised in Wano. Haruta is one of the youngest people on the ship, second youngest commander, 4 years older than Ace. Also, a he, so male like in canon.  
> -For some strange reason that I can't remember anymore, I ship Izou with Thatch.

 It _was_ a date.

 Marco had to admit it, it was a date in every sense but Ace's.

 Ace didn't even have the chance to look for him after checking in with his division - Marco found him first.

 Marco's division was composed mostly of nurses and fighters whose main job was protecting nurses and navigators during an attack or exploring new islands. Nurses, and women in general, Marco suspected, were reasonable and sensible, and the rest of his division was simply too afraid not to listen to him. His word was the law in their eyes so when he told them he's going to town and ordered them a bunch of tasks to do, no one protested.

 With Ace, it was rather difficult. Even though he had never complained, Marco knew he was still being disrespected by some of his subordinates - a lot of older guys didn't want to listen to someone so young and some of them still missed their last commander. In the Second Division, there were two groups - one that warmed up to Ace instantly and one that was still cold toward him.

 That's why, when Marco reached the chart room, Ace was still bent over a freshly drawn map, adding details, surrounded by people. Sammy was there too, along with the friendlier guys from the Second Division. Irashi and some of the older guys were standing on the side, looking deeply unimpressed by Ace's actions.

 "Ace," he spoke up, catching the attention of the whole room. Ace glanced up at him, still holding the pen. "We're supposed to go."

 Ace smiled sheepishly.

 "I'll find you in a minute," he replied. "I have to draw the map of the last island we've been to."

 Marco folded his arms over his chest. His body was feeling quite nice, filled with the glow of Ace's emotions and concern but a couple of his muscles were mimicking the strain in Ace's shoulders.

 "Shouldn't it be done already?" Marco questioned.

 Ace bit his lip. Irashi and another guy from the senior crew, Aralin, smirked.

 "Who forgot to draw it?" he prodded.

 "No one forgot," Sammy spoke up before Ace could even open his mouth. "Ace-san drew it the day we anchored at the last island but Aralin spilled ink at it today."

 Marco's gaze wandered to the floor. Sure enough, there was inked paper in the trash can.

 " _Why didn't you tell me?_ " he asked directly meeting his gaze. " _How long has this been going on?_ "

 Ace avoided his eyes. A hollow feeling echoed in Marco's chest, a distinct shame he sometimes sensed from Ace.

 "Then Aralin is going to redraw it," Marco decided.

 "What?" someone in the background said.

 "It's the Commander's duty to make sure all the maps and papers are in order," Irashi noticed.

 "Marco," Ace spoke up, his hand rubbing the spot on his collarbone, the inflamed one Marco always associated with his own irritation. "I'll do it. I want to do it. I'll find you in half an hour."

 Marco gave him a look.

 "You can't be serious," he told him.

 Ace furrowed his eyebrows, shrugging.

 " _I don't want him to draw that map,_ " Ace answered him through their bond. " _The last time he had drawn the maps he got the shoreline wrong and the tips of all technical pens were blunted. Not to mention how much paper and ink he used and the way his scaling is simply awful and-_ "

 " _Ace_ ," he cut in. "Okay, you'll do it."

 Ace gave him a bright smile and pleasing heat made its way into his lungs, mimicking Ace's affection.

 "But everyone gets out."

 "Someone has to stay on the watch," Irashi tried. "We can't just all neglect our duties."

 "Then keep watch in any other of the crow's nest, there's plenty of them," he spat out. His patience was running thin.

 There was a minute of silence and Irashi clenched his jaw but nodded and left. The rest fled the room after him. Marco hated it - just because someone was in the crew longer or had more experience didn't mean they were better.

 Sammy patted Ace's shoulder with a sheepish expression, leaving as the last one. He was relatively young, a couple of years older than Ace - if not for the lack of fighting skills, Marco would have seen him as the new Commander.

 As soon as the chart room emptied, Ace gave him a meaningful look.

 "I didn't need help," he announced.

 Marco nearly sighed.

 "Really?" he questioned. "You're gonna argue after what I've just seen? How long has this been going on, Ace?"

 "That wasn't anything serious," Ace said. Marco felt anger swelling in his chest, hot, burning and so familiar. "I told you they don't like me. I got used to petty accidents like this one."

 "You shouldn't be used to it," Marco asserted.

 Ace's face stayed passive but Marco's own heart sped up, echoing Ace's. His, _their_ , lips were dry instantly and just because all of that, Marco took a deep breath, letting go of the tightness in his body. He stepped up to Ace's side and Ace was suddenly very interested in the parchment laid out on the drawing board.

 The pencil sketch of the last island was nearly ready but it had to be inked out and left to dry.

 "Ace," he began again, his voice faint and his forehead wrinkled. "That's pretty much bullying and mob mentality combined. They are your subordinates, they are supposed to listen to you. If they don't, they may as well swap divisions."

 "That's not necessary," he answered at once. "Aralin may be shitty at drawing maps but he's got a great sense for the weather. It's similar with all of them."

 Marco looked at him. He didn't need to do that to know Ace's shoulders were stiff and his muscles tensed, flexing. There was bitterness in his mouth - Marco sighed.

 "If they don't change by next month, I will be making changes myself."

 Ace rolled his eyes, turning back to the drawing board. He took out a few technical pens and filled them with ink. His movements were graceful, rather trained, skilled ones that Marco had never seen before, not being made by Ace. It was strange and so normal at the same time - Ace had drawn a countless amount of maps before and Marco saw most of them on the weekly meetings they held with all the divisions which had a direct part in maintaining the ship. Ace doodled a lot too- when they had their kanji lessons in the library, his paper was always cramped with sketches of different things. He had just never seen the process.

 At the top of every pen was a small plastic transparent ball with an even smaller metal ball inside.

 "Why the pens have those little balls at the top?" he asked Ace out of nowhere.

 Ace jumped, his hand straying to his heart. Marco almost chuckled - he could feel how startled he was. 

 "I forgot you are still here," Ace stated.

 "I'm literally five feet away," Marco noticed, an amused smile making its way on his face.

 "Yeah, but it always feels like you're five feet away," Ace answered.

 He realized Ace meant their bond. He got a fuzzy, warm wave of feelings in his chest. Ace had never mentioned it before - logically, Marco knew he had to feel Marco's emotions too but he avoided this topic so much it always appeared as if he was the only one of them who got to feel twice as much.

 Ace glanced up at him, probably feeling it too. He rolled his eyes.

 "They are for keeping the right angle."

 "Huh?"

 "The balls. They are for keeping right angle," Ace explained. "Technical pens, most of them anyway, have to be held at the right angle to the drawing board for drawing steady, long lines. Some of the guys had problems with keeping the angle and I ordered them to glue it to every pen. When the metal ball is in the center, the angle is right." 

 "Clever," Marco remarked, a bit awed by Ace.

 Ace gave him a small smile.

 "Actually, I was wondering," Marco began. "You couldn't read or write up until recently but you can use scale and can draw in technical style. How did it exactly come to it? Who in your family thought that oh, reading isn't useful but technical drawing, that's the thing?"

 Ace fidgeted, not looking at him.

 "Sabo wanted to build a tree house. We usually slept next to the bonfire or in makeshift tents," he answered. "He ran away from a noble family and was always super organized so he wanted to plan it."

 Marco leaned on the edge of the drawing board, half-sitting. He crossed his arm over his chest as if to warm up the chilly spot under his sternum, hollow feeling of Ace's memories.

 "How old were you?"

 Ace glanced at him, catching his gaze. He looked so shy - strands of his hair in his eyes and delicate blush on his cheeks. It made him look younger.

 "Ten. We stole Dadan's, our care taker's money and went to town to buy things for technical drawings," Ace said, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "There was a nice older lady, she taught me everything she knew about technical drawings. It was quite easy, she told me I had a talent."

 "I think it runs in your family," Marco noticed. "Your mom was one of the best navigators I have met, was natural at it."

 Ace grinned at that but the smile was strained, cracking in the mid-move.

 Marco took one of the chairs and sat with Ace, watching him work for the next half an hour. The map was perfect.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 They did finally go to town - much later than Marco planned, it was getting quite close to dinner to be honest, not long before the sunset.

 The first thing Ace wanted to do was, unsurprisingly, eating food. It was endearing.

 He ate a lot, so much that people stared at them.

 The next stop was a chart shop and tourist point. The chart shop wasn't big, not as big as the one on Sabaody or in Alabasta, or Wano but it was big enough for such a small island. The shop owner was a laid back man in his fifties who was a classic example of an expert in the topic but one without talent. Marco was pretty useless there, being mostly a sponsor, to be honest. He stopped paying attention to their conversation as soon as Ace used words like _alidade_ and _bathymetry_. He observed Ace instead, his flushed cheeks and the enthusiastic spark in his eyes. It was pleasant enough and Ace was relaxed so he wouldn't complain.

 The owner gave them sketches of the island but told them to ask at the harbor about the shore, harbourmaster had a shack nearby and he would know the depth of the water.

 In the end, they went to the market. Despite being late, it was still packed with people. Upon the arrival of their crew, numerous stalls stayed on display even in the evening, probably expecting profit. There were a few people from the ship but most of them were still at dinner in the mess hall.

 It was much later when they wandered around the stalls and Ace stopped at one with leather crafts that Marco realized it was like an actual date. He was trying to keep up with Ace's pace, following his steps, when the lady from whom he bought flowers the day before called him out from her stall.

 She smiled at him and he glanced away, searching for Ace. Ace turned back to him, meeting his gaze and giving him a wave of a hand. He looked energetic, sparking, so vivid and his skin seemed to glow in the light of dying sunset and Marco had trouble with turning his gaze away.

 The lady chuckled.

 "The flowers were for him?" she asked. When he licked his lips instead of answering, she continued, "He's a cute one. Hibiscus flowers suit him."

 Before Marco could say anything, she pushed one of the hibiscuses into his hand. It had a short stem and vibrant red petals.

 Ace glanced at the flower in his hand but didn't say anything. His face was blank but his chest tightened and an echo of hollowness overcome Marco's lungs. It wasn't a negative reaction, not like the one that morning but it held a certain amount of nostalgia.

 He didn't know why he tucked Ace's hair behind his ear and then tucked the flower behind his ear too. It was natural and before he realized what he was doing, it had been done.

 Ace peeked up at him but still didn't speak up. He lifted his hand, his palm hovering near the flower as if he wanted to take it out - he didn't do that in the end, brushing a few of black locks with his fingertips. He sent Marco a tiny smile, one with a face so flushed his freckles blended in with the pink color of his skin.

 Marco had the urge to take his hand and squeeze and then not let go but he resisted. He didn't want to press, not after what happened in the morning.

 Ace was here, with him, looking as beautiful and as sunny as ever and he was at peace, and Marco didn't care for much more.

 

 

 The next morning, when Marco came to Ace's room so they could eat breakfast together, all the flowers were on Ace's nightstand. The bouquet was standing in a vase and the single flower Ace had had tucked behind his ear was in a small jar filled with water.

 Marco couldn't stop smiling. Maybe it was all gonna be okay.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 It wasn't gonna be okay.

 About a week later, Ace had another breakdown. Marco didn't know what caused it because usually there was _something_ that did cause it - a trigger. He wasn't feeling too well the last couple of hours but Marco was so used to it and Ace had been telling him it was okay and he was in the town anyway, they couldn't exactly meet.

 He was in the middle of talking with Fossa's division when he felt it. It wasn't crying per se, not with the way Ace rarely cried. But his chest was in pain, resembling a black hole in the place of his heart and his lungs clutched, seeking air, and his muscles tensed, his shoulders tight. His throat closed on itself and his eyes watered, glossy. None of this was Marco's. 

 He closed his mouth in the middle of a sentence and looked around, knowing well enough that Ace was nowhere in sight.

 "Marco?"

 "Do you know where Ace is right now?" he blurted out.

 Most of the guys looked at him weirdly.

 "He got back from the town some time ago. I think he's in his room now or in the chart room..."

 Marco didn't listen to anything else. He turned on his heel, stumbling on several people on the way. Everyone's gaze stalked him and some of the crew moved after him.

 As soon as he was under Ace's door, he started rapidly knocking.

 A wave of something that took his breath and made his sight fuzzy hit his chest.

 "Ace," he tried. "Are you okay? Can I come in?"

 Before Marco knocked again, there was the sound of the footsteps on the other side. Ace opened the door, not minding the presence of the small crowd that gathered around.

 He didn't look much out of ordinary, to be honest. His eyes were glossy and his skin was a shade lighter but it wasn't a major difference. If not for the feeling of self-hatred and resignation that Marco was so familiar with, he would never say Ace was down.

 Ace looked up at him, a subtle smile on his face. Marco hated that smile.

 "I'm fine, Marco," he told him.

 Marco's shoulders fell but he didn't know if it was mimicking Ace or if it was his own reaction. His hands moved instinctively, hovering over Ace.

 "I'm gonna hug you know," he announced to Ace.

 Ace looked up at him, his smile falling. Marco wrapped his arms around him and Ace hid his face under his chin. He side-step them to the inside of the room, kicking the doors shut.

 Ace didn't burst into tears, not like that time with hibiscuses. He sobbed in Marco's chest but it was so soft and quiet he barely heard it. It'd been about twenty minutes before Ace calmed down, the overwhelming feeling leaving Marco's body and being replaced with numbness.

 Ace didn't say anything about it.

 He said a small, "Thank you," and left the room, Marco in tow.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 The next day started nicely for Ace. As nice as it could.

 He woke up, looking at the dying flowers on his night table. For anyone else, it would be a sad view but for Ace, it was only a bit bittersweet. The last night, he spent with Pops, listening to the story of how his mom tricked Roger and stole half his treasures when she was beginning her pirate career. It soothed him to sleep. The sun was shining and they were still docked.

 The first thing he did, despite what everyone believed wasn't going to eat breakfast. Usually, he would go up the crow's nest and check on the watch that was in the chart room. ~~He used to go to Marco's room first, saying _good morning_ and asking him if he wanted Ace to bring him breakfast to his room. He didn't do that anymore~~. 

 He knew that day was going to be even more shitty than the day before when he entered chart room and every pair of eyes turned to him.

 He wanted to sigh and close his eyes and go back to bed. He knew he couldn't do that - the seniors from the Second Division would eat him alive if he did that. He opted to smile and pretend he didn't notice the tension in the room or the accusing gazes or even the feeling of Marco's heartbeat, still steady and sleepy and so calm Ace was jealous. He loved his division but he also hated them a little.

 "Hey, has anyone made a draft of the map of the island yet?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

 The silence was awkward at best and attacking at worst.

 If they wanted to point a figurative finger at him, he would at least want to know why. So he spoke up, addressing the whole room, "What did I do again?"

 He tried not to be tired but he was. He wanted to do something right for once in his life. Meet someone's expectations for once.

 "Tell me," Irashi began.  Every time he heard his voice, Ace would get a headache if he could. He wasn't even supposed to be here - his watch was tonight. "How long were you gonna keep it a secret that you slept your way into a promotion?"

 Yeah, a headache. Every fucking time.

 "I think I'm missing something because I don't understand what you are saying," Ace quipped. "Usually your insults at least make sense."

 "You're _Marco's soulmate_ ," Irashi announced. It sounded more like an accusation. The cat was out of the bag.

 Ace waited for some elaboration but it never came. 

 " _Commander_ Marco," he corrected, breaking the silence. "Show some respect. He may be younger than you but he's still your superior. As am I."

 "If you wanted to sleep your way to the position of a commander, you should have chosen any other division but ours."

 Someone coughed in the background but Ace could only feel how ridiculous that statement was. Even if he wanted to sleep his way anywhere, it wasn't really possible with Marco, since, well, the closest to sleeping together they came was lying in the same bed after Ace's breakdown. There was also that thing with Marco not loving him.

 He didn't know what he wanted to do more - laugh, snort, sigh or maybe cry at the irony.

 The saddest thing about it was, maybe Ace could be at fault there. Because he did fall in love with Marco and as Izou told him countless times - he _was_ making goo-goo eyes at him. But Marco didn't deserve it, not with the way he opposed the idea of Ace as his soulmate from the start.

 "I'm used to your stupid insults toward me but implying Marco, the biggest stickler on this ship, would engage in nepotism is just idiocy," Ace remarked. His mouth was dry and maybe his eyes were glassy but the only thing he could feel was that annoying, bittersweet hole over his heart. "I think your imagination got a bit carried away."

 Maybe it worked a bit because the silent room went into commotion. Maybe the truth was enough to actually make reason with most of them.

 "To be honest, I'm fed up with your behavior. You won't be on duty the whole week," Ace decided. Maybe it was the right time to do it. "You're going to help with cleaning duty of every division this week. As a lesson."

 "You can't make me," Irashi spat out.

 "As your superior, yes, I can," he assured him. "And if you have your doubts about this, we can always discuss it with both mine and your superiors, Pops and Commander Marco. I'm sure they will be more understanding than me when they hear about this conversation."

 Irashi paled so much that Ace finally could smile.

 The irony though. The irony still hurt.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 Marco had a rough night but the sleep was good. After the whole breakdown, Ace vanished somewhere and left all the chaos behind. Marco couldn't fall asleep not knowing Ace could sleep so he waited. He went to bed at around three o'clock. But he woke up rested and although Ace wasn't the brightest, he felt better than yesterday. Marco smiled at him when he entered the mess hall.

 "Everyone knows," Ace told him when Marco sat down in front of him.

 Marco did realize it as soon as he entered the mess hall and everyone stared at him. It was strangely quiet too.

 "Is it something bad?" Marco questioned.

 Ace bit his lip and glanced down at the table. It was quite normal for him, when he held too much eye contact he tended to do that. It just didn't seem right though, not now.

 " _Ace_ ," he prodded gently through the bond. " _What is it?_ "

 "Irashi told me I should have slept my way to another division," he confessed.

 Marco stood up, the plate making a loud sound with his movement.

 "I'm going to make him eat his own words," Marco spat out.

 Ace gave him a little smile even though his eyes didn't have any sparks to them.

 "Don't bother," he told him. "I assigned him to help with cleaning duties of every division for the next two weeks."

 "Good."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 "Pops, I need a piece of advice."

 Pops didn't look as surprised as he probably should be. Marco rarely asked for advice and when he did, he never quite worded it like that. It was personal.

 Pops didn't say anything but nodded for Marco to continue.

 "I kind of found out something about Ace-" 

 Pops rolled his eyes at that. His children were all too dramatic. 

 "You mean you found out that Ace is your soulmate," he interrupted. 

 Marco raised an eyebrow at that, opening his mouth and closing them a couple of times. He gathered his thoughts but held back his tongue, answering with a short, "Yes."

 "I suppose you didn't come here asking me how to repair this whole soulmate mess because there's no answer for that," Pops continued. Marco licked his lips, glancing down at the floor. "What's it then?"

 "Do you remember how, about twelve years ago, I burst into tears-"

 "During breakfast, yes, I remember."

 "Ace still has these- these _episodes_ ," Marco explained. "He just hides them well. I talk with him and help him through them as much as I can but-"

 Marco didn't really know how to word it. It was a delicate topic but it was a necessary thing to address. He just wasn't convinced he was making the right choice. Maybe Ace had never decided on it because it wasn't something he felt comfortable with. He may have seemed open but the truth hit Marco like a cold shower every day - Ace was closed off and didn't trust easily. Even when it came to their crew.

 "I think it's not enough," he stated. "Ace- I think he has depression or something similar." 

 "You want him to talk to Mikoto," Pops guessed.

 "I know she talks mostly with people with PTSD or phobias but it may help him," Marco explained. "I may feel what he feels but it doesn't always mean I understand why he feels what he feels. I just don't know what I could tell him that would make him feel better."

 Pops shifted, making his chair creak. It was such a shrieking sound in the silence, even with the soft whispers of waves outside.

 "Love is not some magical cure for mental illness, son. Ace won't get better just because he's in a good environment now," Pops told him, the lack of usual lightheartedness vivid in his gaze. "You can try to persuade him into sessions with Mikoto but I don't think he'd agree. Ace, even surrounded by people who love him, is very lonely."

 Marco knew that better than anyone. He felt lonely all the time too. Or rather he felt _the echo_ of loneliness all the time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 "Mikoto's office? What are we doing here?"

 Marco couldn't find a good excuse so he just didn't say anything.

 He asked Ace to come with him somewhere and Ace, like the loyal person he was, hadn't even asked him where exactly before following. Maybe he trusted Marco this much. Maybe he just didn't care.

 "You told me he wanted help," Mikoto accused Marco, putting hands on her hips and glaring at him.

 Ace took a step back and Marco reached for his elbow before he could escape. His skin was almost as hot as the throbbing pain in Marco's lungs - or the reflection of it.

 "I think you need it, Ace," he explained. "You need professional help from a psychologist. Your breakdowns are getting better but they-"

 "I'm not crazy," Ace protested.

 Mikoto's whole body lost its anger, deflating.

 "Of course you aren't, Ace," she told him. "Having problems of the mental nature doesn't mean you're crazy. It just means you went through a lot, experiencing life on very different levels."

 "I don't need help," he insisted.

 "We both know it's not true," Marco objected. "Not counting the breakdowns, I don't think pretending, acting or faking emotions is healthy."

 "With all due respect, Ace, I've known Marco for fourteen years and just observing your soulbond was enough for me to see you're hurting," Mikoto stated. Her voice was way more neutral and it didn't agitate Ace as much as Marco's did. He could feel him giving in. "We'll only talk. If you don't feel comfortable with some things you can say _pass_ and we'll leave the topic behind."

 Marco looked him in the eyes, his gaze pleading.

 " _Please_ ," he begged through the bond. " _You know I mean only well for you._ "

 " _Actually, I don't know that_ ," he replied, his glare fierce.

 Marco ignored how his heart shattered a little and begged again, " _Please_."

 Ace took a deep breath, closing his eyes. His lungs, _their_ lungs, were clenching and for a moment there, Marco thought he was going to have another anxiety attack.

 "Okay."

 Marco smiled - his smile was small but the softest one he could muster. Ace didn't smile back, not even when Marco caressed his shoulder, his thumb circling on the hot skin.

 "I'll leave you two alone," Marco told them, nodding to Mikoto.

 "Actually," Mikoto spoke up before he even reached the doorknob. "I'd like you to have sessions together. In no way do I find your obsession with soulmates healthy and although your concerns about Ace could be a family thing, I doubt it is."

 Ace gave him a look, his eyes wide and sparking, eyebrows raised meaningfully. He was practically smirking.

 "Told you people don't fall in love because they're meant to be soulmates," Ace pointed out.

 Marco folded his arms.

 "I don't have an obsession."

 Ace shrugged.

 "Denial isn't just some mythical river in Alabasta."

 His face was still angry, with furrowed eyebrows and clenched jaw. He wasn't angry though. Marco had felt his anger exactly once.

 "I'll stay," he agreed. "For Ace."

 Ace rolled his eyes but took a sit, brushing Marco's hand off his arm. His expression didn't change, every time he glanced at Marco, he looked angry. He never was. There was a painful hollowness in his chest even though his lungs squeezed themselves, not taking in the right amount of air. All Ace felt was panic, pain, resignation, and sadness. Marco told about it Mikoto.

 She didn't concentrate on the pretending part or on the negative emotions part like Marco thought she would.

 "You don't feel anger?" she questioned.

 Ace shrugged.

 "Didn't people around you express anger when you were young?"

 Ace closed his eyes for a moment that seemed too long to be a normal reaction. Marco's mind heard it all - screams of a woman, cruel and shrieking, sounds of broken bottles and glasses, sounds of lost fights, animalistic growls. It was a thought mirroring memories, so bland Ace couldn't stop them.

 "Everyone was angry," Ace told her, looking her in the eyes. "Almost everyone."

 Marco didn't know. Admittedly, he didn't know much about Ace's childhood except for that it wasn't the nicest. He knew some names, like his care taker's - Dadan - or his brother's - Sabo - or even the two names that always held certain softness in Ace's thoughts - Luffy and Makino - but it was all. Most of the memories Ace shared with him were bittersweet.

 Mikoto didn't speak up for a moment, expecting more. Ace didn't continue.

 "There are two main ways to express anger. One, which is healthier for the person but toxic for their community, is expressing anger freely - through outbursts, screams, sometimes physically," Mikoto explained, addressing mostly Ace. "The second way is holding it back until it accumulates and explodes. It's frustrated anger that affects the mental state of the person."

 "I don't feel anger because it's pointless," Ace told her. "Why be angry about something you can't change?"

 "And what if you can?" Mikoto questioned.

 Their gazes met and Marco had a feeling they were having an entirely different conversation.

 "Then change it. Simple."

 

* * *

 

 

 Ace didn't speak to him after the forced therapy with Mikoto. Well, at least not how he used to do. There was always some tenseness to him and Marco hated it. Maybe it was what he deserved after breaking Ace's trust like that - he didn't regret it though, not if it could help Ace.

 Marco was glad when they docked at the next island. Or rather, he was glad they had problems with docking because it meant Ace had to talk with him.

 They spent about two hours discussing possible options. The island was quite big and inhabited all around the shores, leaving a circled forest far away from their reach. Somehow, there was only one harbor, on the south, and a small one at that. Ace wasn't convinced it could hold up a ship as big as Moby Dick and proposed only one way of docking there - dropping the anchors near the jetty so they could use a ladder and walk down the port. They could also dock far away from the island, not risking any damages but it would equal with the usage of tenders to get to the shore. Or they could take the risk and try to anchor at one of the unharbored shores. Ace suspected there was either not enough water or a high difference of depths depending on flood or ebb steam so they rejected even the thought. They still didn't know how long the log pose would take to settle - the recon crew forgot to ask.

 After two hours of discussions, the two of them alone in the chart room, they decided on dropping the anchor near the jetty. Ace prepared for docking.

 It was pretty late evening when they were settled in. Most of their brothers and sisters decided to stay on the ship, eating dinner. Ace stayed in the chart room, calculating if the anchors would hold up against the tide. When Marco asked if he wanted to visit the town with him, he ignored him.

 So Marco did the only thing he could think of - he went to the flower shop. The lady there was actually closing but seeing Marco's miserable face, she let him in. He probably looked pathetic.

 There were way too many flowers and Marco knew only that Ace hated roses and though dahlias smelled weird. There were hibiscuses but no red ones. In the end, Marco decided on orange hibiscuses with yellow petal tips that were shaded in a manner that reminded Marco od Ace's fire. The flower lady put a couple of white carnations in the bouquet and tied a bow around it. Marco asked her for one loose hibiscus flower, with the shorter stem so he could tuck it behind Ace's ear like the last time.

 On the way back to the ship, he ran into Curiel. Curiel glanced once at the flowers and smirked knowingly.

 "You fucked up again?" he asked, his tone teasing.

 Marco would clench his fist but he didn't want to ruin the bouquet.

 "I don't _fuck up_ as you called it."

 "Oh, sorry. You just make some bad decisions that anger our resident firecracker."

 He was sure that by tomorrow's morning everyone would have heard about it. Ace will be blushing the whole day again.

 "Good luck," Curiel told him, lacking the teasing tone.

 Marco would need luck. He still didn't know what he was doing.

 Ace wasn't angry at him. It wasn't anger but some strange and really disturbing emptiness he felt around Marco. Like he was preparing for the impact, for the worst, _numbing_ himself.

 Ace wasn't in his room so Marco went to the chart room. Dozens of people had seen him with the flowers but he tried not to pay attention to it - everyone had already known he and Ace were soulmates.

 When he entered the chart room, all the eyes turned to him. An awkward silence filled the room. Ace was standing at one of the desks, log book opened in front of him, a bottle of ink on his right. He probably recognized Marco with his haki but he didn't turn around.

 Everyone stared at the flowers in Marco's hand, frozen.

 Sammy, standing the closest to Ace, spoke up.

 "Ace-san," he said, tapping Ace on the arm. "We'll go and eat dinner now."

 Ace didn't say anything for a moment and then he sighed, turning back to face Marco. Everyone took it as a cue to leave.

 Ace glanced at the bouquet. He didn't frown but Marco felt how his clouded for a couple of seconds, not understanding.

 He folded his arms across his chest but his shoulders weren't tense.

 "You can't buy me flowers every time I'm mad at you," he told him.

 Marco gave him a sheepish smile, fonder than anything.

 "You're not really mad at me," Marco noticed. "You're- Well, you're mad at- mad at yourself?"

 It was a strange feeling, Marco couldn't give it a name but it certainly wasn't directed at him. It wasn't positive either.

 Ace leaned on the edge of the desk on his arms, just looking at Marco for a moment.

 Marco's chest warmed up, a nice wave of heat overcoming his body and coloring his cheeks - he wasn't sure if it was his own reaction or Ace's but it made him relax.

 " _Thank_ _you_ ," Ace told him through the bond. Maybe he was thanking him for flowers. Maybe for something else.

 Marco handed him the flowers and Ace took them in both his hands, the tips of their fingers sparked when they touched.

 Marco reached for one of the hibiscuses, the one that wasn't tied into the bouquet. Ace gazed up at him with curious eyes and a soft smile on his lips. His freckles blended in with the blush on his cheeks. When Marco brushed a strand of hair, tucking black curls behind Ace's ear, he could see that the tips of his ear were red too. The orange and yellow hibiscuses suited Ace almost too well, complimenting his sun-kissed skin.

 Ace turned his gaze away from Marco's eyes. One of their hearts was thumping in their ears.

 "Come eat dinner with me," Marco offered. "You'll finish whatever you were doing tomorrow."

 "Everyone will stare."

 He didn't say but Marco knew he meant the flowers and the crowd that was probably waiting for them on the way from the crow's nest.

 "Then let them stare," he replied, his voice quiet. Unconsciously, his hand wandered to Ace's cheek, brushing his hair. Ace gave him a side glance. "We can't really change that, can we?"

 They left the chart room and crow's nest. Like Marco predicted, a small crowd gathered on the upper deck, observing them.

 When Ace hesitated, Marco put his hand on the small of his back, his thumb caressing the skin there.

 They went to the mess hall, forgetting to leave the bouquet in Ace's room. It laid on the table between the two of them.

 No one bothered them. Not with the way Marco glared at everyone who came within twenty feet.

 Pops was smirking the whole time.

 Marco, somehow, didn't feel embarrassment at all.  
  


 

* * *

 

 

 

 "How did it come to this situation anyway?" Pops asked him out of nowhere.

 "What situation? The fight in the Second Division?"

 They were discussing just that a moment ago. Sammy had a black eye after he insulted one of the older guys from the division. If Ace didn't interfere, there would be more than a black eye. He was currently sitting in the infirmaries, checking if he didn't have any other injuries. Sammy had hemophilia and even small wounds would require taking meds.

 "No, the one with Ace," Pops elaborated. "Until Ace told me about a month ago, I was sure you were already dating."

 Marco stopped going through the papers and licked his lips, looking up at Pops. He didn't expect _that_.

 "You talked with him?" he questioned, his voice stuck in his throat.

 Pops quirked an eyebrow.

 "Shouldn't have I?"

 "Well, I thought he had wanted to keep it secret. Us being soulmates," he explained. "I didn't know he confided in anyone."

 Marco glanced at the countless reports, lists, requests and other paperwork. He didn't know, he actually didn't know so much about Ace. He did know Ace had a good relationship with Pops pretty much since Ace stopped making the attempts at Pops's life but he didn't even imagine Ace would talk with Pops about one of his most shameful secrets - because Ace was ashamed of their bond, _didn't want it_.

 "He didn't tell me you're soulmates. I had already known," Pops admitted. "When you told me, all those years ago, that you can hear his thoughts I suspected. But when he told me about his parents, I was sure he's your soulmate."

 Pops was that one person Ace told about his biological father before joining their crew, Marco realized.

 "I was sure you'd figure it out on your own pretty fast with the whole telepathic bond," Pops added. "That's mostly why I thought you were already dating."

 "He didn't want to tell me his name," Marco explained. Pops raised an eyebrow at that. "Said he wants to fall in love with a person, not with some empty image of the idea of soulmates."

 Pops frowned.

 "I take it you didn't figure it out."

 "I think Ace did. I told him my name and a lot of personal information," Marco admitted. "He even asked me if I was his soulmate."

 "That's when the situation started," Pops guessed. "You don't love him. Not that way."

 Marco's head snapped. His eyes widened, staring at Pops's stern look. Marco's muscles tensed and something in him blew up.

 " _I do_ ," Marco denied after the shock. Pops furrowed his eyebrows, prodding. "It's Ace who doesn't..."

 "Marco, _son_ ," Pops said gently. "I know most of my children are emotionally stunted but even logically it doesn't make sense."

 "What?" Marco spat out.

 "You've just told me Ace didn't want to tell you his name through the bond because he wanted to fall in love first," Pops continued, his voice sounding as if he was talking to a toddler, not his first mate. "And you've just told me he asked you if you were his soulmate. After getting to know you."

 "Ace knew he is in love with me before asking," Marco realized out loud. Pops snorted at that. "Shit, I think I fucked up really this time."

 "So what caused the situation?" Pops questioned, getting ready for a couple of long hours filled with pieces of relationship advice.

 It hit Marco almost all the time. Ace was in love with him.

 It hit him when Acr told him _good morning_ in the mess hall, it hit him when Ace brought him coffee to his room, it hit him when Ace stopper for a long small talk while bringing Marco a report.

 And most of all, it hit him every time Ace looked at him with that soft smile on his face and every time they ran into each other, there was an echo of bittersweet feeling in Ace's mouth, so normal, so casual Marco would never pay attention to it if he wasn't paying special attention to it.

 It hit him at dinner. Ace was sitting at another table, sandwiched between Sammy and Deuce. He stopped mid-word when he noticed Marco's gaze and smiled at him. It was soft, with quirked lips, raised eyebrows, with a faint blush on his cheeks and with the warmth of a fire in his eyes. His shoulders narrowed, hunching, and it looked as if he was shying away from Marco's gaze.

 "Has Ace always looked at me like that?" he asked out loud, interrupting Izou and Vista's conversation.

 Izou gave him a pointed look.  
  
 "Why no one told me about it?"  
  
 "We did," Izou noticed. "Again and again. You just didn't want to listen."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _As usual, if you see any mistakes, typos or other annoying things, do tell me. English is only my second language and words tend to be messed up by me._
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> I split the last chapter in half, it was so long I couldn't rewrite it fast enough.
> 
> The good news is, after three weeks of finals, I finally graduated high school, my portfolio is finished and I got into my uni of choice. I have just one part-time job and taking care of my lil sis left, for at least two-three weeks anyway, so my writing time will definitely increase until I find a full-time job. I'll try to update the rest of my fics in the next two weeks.
> 
> Thanks for reading, bookmarking, leaving kudos or comments here and under my other fics! I hope you liked this chapter!


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